


To All the Boys (and Girls) I've Loved Before

by TheKnightOfHeart



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - To All the Boys I've Loved Before Fusion, Band Memes, Band Nerd Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Emotional Vulnerability, Enjoy!, Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Jock Keith (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Cousins, Keith (Voltron) is So Soft Guys You Don't Even Understand, Krolia (Voltron) is a Good Parent, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nerd/Jock Relationships, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Smitten Keith (Voltron), Very Smart Lance (Voltron), because fuck you boys are allowed that, cause y'all really sleeping on that huh?, he's not even subtle i love him, not really but it's definitely A Thing, pretty sure that's it, so is lance they're both losers i love them, that should be a tag btw, yeah strap in bois we're delving deep into marching band lore for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnightOfHeart/pseuds/TheKnightOfHeart
Summary: Lance's senior year was supposed to be easy. Yeah, taking four AP/Honors classes on top of doing swimmingandmarching band after school was going to suck a little bit and so was not having his sister/best friend Veronica there to help, but it was manageable.Well, as if high school wasn't hard enough to survive just on its own, the five love letters Lance never intended to send are suddenly missing and turn up in the hands of the very people Lance never intended to send them to, Ryan (Veronica's ex-boyfriend) and Keith (Lance's ex-best-friend's ex-boyfriend) included.In a moment of desperation, Keith and Lance agree to fake-date each other. Lance agrees so he can avoid talking to Ryan (and, more importantly, Veronica) about the letters. Keith agrees so he can win back Lotor (Lance's aforementioned ex-best-friend). Neither of them are telling the truth.Keeping up? Good, cause Lance sure as hell isn't.





	1. Hating Goodbyes

It was well-known in the McClain house that Rosa and Joaquín’s youngest son, Lance, was the biggest romantic the world had ever seen, except for maybe Shakespeare. 

In spite of this _and_ Lance’s bisexuality not limiting him to just one gender, however, Lance had never actually had a boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other of _any_ gender. He’d had more than his fair share of crushes, but he’d never gone on a date, never flirted (seriously) with anyone, and never _kissed_ anyone.

Well, not technically. There was this _one_ time in seventh grade when he’d stupidly participated in a game of Spin the Bottle and had to kiss resident badass loner Keith Kogane, but that was _seventh grade_ and during a game of Spin the Bottle. It didn’t even have tongue, and Lance refused to let it count.

So yeah, despite all of Lance’s fantasizing and sighing and fancy words, he didn’t know jackshit about romance. The best thing he had were his (very numerous) trashy romance novels and the real-life romances of his parents, his grandparents, his brother Luis and his wife Lisa, and his numerous other married relatives.

Speaking of said trashy romance novels, one had just smacked Lance on the nose, interrupting the scene Lance had been carefully reading through, absorbing every word and smiling giddily to himself as the two love interests crept closer and closer to their fated kiss.

“Hey!” Lance snapped, sitting up on his bed and glaring at the small, light-skinned girl standing in his doorway. She grinned widely. “Did you really have to throw a pillow at me?”

“Uh, _yeah_!” Nadia said, rolling her eyes as if it should be obvious. “I called your name, like, a _million_ times, and you didn’t answer!”

Lance flushed and bit his lip. “Oh,” he mumbled quietly. “Sorry.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just be downstairs soon! Grandpa says dinner’s almost ready.” As if on cue, a loud clatter and a shout of _“Mierda!”_ floated up the stairs. Lance and Nadia shared a wince.

Lance’s older sister Veronica suddenly appeared in the doorway. As if reading her niece and brother’s minds, she snapped, “No, we are _not_ going to go downstairs and help him, and _yes_ , we _do_ have to pretend his food is good regardless of how burnt or bland or awful it is.”

“Why is _Abuelo_ even learning how to cook?” Nadia whined, pouting and crossing her arms. “He knows that _Mamá_ will always be willing to cook for him.”

Veronica wasn’t swayed by Nadia’s logic and instead pointed down the hallway. “Downstairs _now_. We’re going to set the table.”

Nadia and Lance shared a scarily identical groan and followed their sister/aunt downstairs. Right as they passed in front of the door, someone knocked politely and quickly walked inside, smile huge and shoes already off and grasped in his hands.

“Hey!” he said with a small smile. “I’m not too late, right?”

The man was immediately swarmed by Lance’s family. “Ryan!” Lance’s mother, Rosa, crooned. She was already sweeping him into a bear hug, and with a chuckle, the dark-skinned man accepted it.

“Good to see you too, Miss Rosa,” he greeted. He accepted a kiss from Veronica, his girlfriend, and turned to ruffle Nadia’s hair when she grabbed him for a hug.

When Ryan Kinkade finally turned his gaze onto Lance, he _melted_. Butterflies just like the ones he’d read about so many times in his books and heard described by his family members erupted in his stomach, and he was left feeling a bit dizzy with happiness. “Hey, Ryan,” he breathed.

Ryan smiled widely, showing off his dimples and perfect, white teeth. “Hey, Lancey,” he teased, holding up his hand for a high-five. Lance indulged him in both the high-five and the childhood nickname, and when Ryan turned to follow Lance’s family into the dining room, Lance allowed a self-indulgent moment to stare after him and sigh dreamily, clutching the stair railing.

Eventually, though, he had to stop and join the rest of his family. When he did, however, the sight he was greeted with wasn’t exactly pretty.

Most of the family was in disarray, trying to find out who was going to sit where and get Nadia and Sylvio to stop fighting long enough to actually _eat_. Lance solved that problem by sitting in between the two of them so he could mediate, but it still took a few more minutes for the siblings to call a truce and for everybody else to negotiate who was going to sit where.

Rosa ended up at the head of the table with Veronica, Ryan, and Lance’s other sister, Rachel, on her left. One of Lance’s brothers, Marco, and Nadia, Lance, and Sylvio were seated on her right, the two warring siblings trying to continue their fight despite Lance sitting between them. It wasn’t really working, but Lance admired their resolve.

“Nadia, if you keep fighting with Sylvio, I’m going to make you take the _bus_ to school this year instead of driving you,” Lance threatened casually.

Nadia paused for a moment, then scowled. “I might not go with you anyways if you don’t get better at driving,” she grumbled, but she calmed down anyways. Lance counted it as a win, even if there was a definite slight at his (lack of) driving skills in there.

 _Abuelo_ Edward appeared in the doorway of the dining room a moment later, grinning and holding a plate of… Well, actually, Lance didn’t know _what_ it was supposed to be. It was so charred and deformed that Lance could only guess that it was supposed to be some sort of meat, judging by the general shape and the smell coming off of it. Still, it was impossible to tell. Just his luck, he tried complimenting it only for Edward to tell him that it was actually something completely different.

Rosa was the first to regain her ability to talk. “It... looks delicious, _Papá_!” she lied, forcing a smile. “I can’t wait to eat it. I’m sure it’ll be just like _Mamá’s_!”

Edward smiled, showing off his gold tooth. “Aw, thank you, Rosa!” he cooed. “You flatter this old man. Now, come help me cut. My hands are beginning to shake again. I think I’ve been cooking too long.”

“I told you not to push yourself, _Papá_ ,” Rosa chided with a small frown, but she stood and bustled over to the opposite end of the table to help anyways.

There was an awkward thirty seconds of silence as Rosa took the carving knife and began sawing at the meat(?). No matter how much Rosa frowned and muttered and angled and pressed, however, the meat stayed stubbornly together, and the rest of the table exchanged uneasy glances, wondering who was going to risk life and limb by suggesting they get take-out instead.

“I... I don’t understand,” Edward said, his proud smile quickly falling into a confused, sad frown. “The recipe said it was supposed to fall off the bone.” He looked up at Rosa, who was now panting with the effort of trying to cut the meat. “Did I do it wrong?”

Lance quickly interrupted. “Of course not, _Abuelo_! Those recipes _always_ say ‘fall-off-the-bone’, but I think you just got a bad piece of meat!” he lied with a confident grin. He looked over at his mother. “Hey, Ma, we have an electric knife in the kitchen. I think _that_ would work a lot better.”

Rosa blinked, then smiled slowly. “Good idea, Lance!” she said, finally putting down the carving knife. “Do you know where it is?”

“I do,” Veronica said, standing and taking the plate from her mother. “I’ll be right back. Looks great, _Abuelo_.”

She left, and Nadia sighed, pouting. “I can’t believe she’s not going to be back until _Thanksgiving_ ,” she grumbled. “Why did she have to choose a college that’s so far away?!”

“Uh, _Christmas_ , actually,” Rosa corrected lightly, going to sit back down at her seat. “Arizona is a bit too far to be able to come back for the smaller breaks. Too much money.” Faint buzzing could be heard from the kitchen, but no one paid it any mind.

Lance gaped at his mother. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “We’re not gonna see her again till _Christmas_? That’s _forever_ away!”

“Let’s look on the bright side!” Rosa said immediately. “Veronica won’t be taking the car every day, so _you_ will have the chance to practice your driving!”

Lance blanched and looked down at his plate as Nadia groaned. “I forgot I have to ride with _Lance_ now,” she complained.

Lance scowled and flicked her arm. “Hey, the _bus_ is still an option, dweeb.”

She pulled a face. “Actually, I’d take _death_ over that stinky, overcrowded thing _any_ day. At least a car crash will kill me faster than whatever mold is coating the underside of those seats.” If Lance wasn’t nursing a wounded ego, he would’ve felt inclined to agree.

She leaned back to lock eyes with Sylvio. “You’re lucky,” she told him seriously. “You still have one more year of elementary, so Dad can still drop you off on his way to work. _I_ have to risk my life.”

Sylvio smirked and stuck his tongue out. Lance casually shoved Nadia back in her seat before she could try lunging at him.

“If you guys really need it, _I_ could give you a ride,” Ryan piped up, smiling slightly. “I mean, I’m not _disappearing_. I still live right next door.”

Lance felt himself swoon slightly, but he managed to disguise it as a grateful smile. “Thanks, but Nadia’s just being dramatic. We can manage.”

“You say that like it’s supposed to be news,” Veronica said dryly, walking back in with a plate of sawed meat and a pair of tongs to serve it. She started going around and piling charred, uneven slices onto everyone’s plate. Sylvio pulled a face, but Edward thankfully missed it. “But what _specifically_ is she being dramatic about?”

“My driving,” Lance grumped, back to sulking. “I mean honestly, it’s not _that_ bad!”

“Uh, speaking of transportation...” Ryan mumbled, squirming in his chair and beginning to dig around in his pockets. He grinned at Veronica. “I have a surprise for you!”

He handed her an envelope, and Veronica took it with a confused expression. “Oh,” she said. “Uh, thanks.”

While she worked on opening it, Ryan continued, “Since you can’t come home for Thanksgiving, I figured I’d help you out by bringing home to you.” Veronica’s confused expression turned into dawning understanding, and Lance leaned over to see that he’d given her plane tickets.

“It’s a plane ticket!” he explained, his grin widening. “I’m coming to Arizona with you!”

The entire table cooed and patted him on the back, but Lance caught the look on Veronica’s face and paused. “You... Did you already pay for this?” she asked quietly.

The whole table fell silent. “I mean, yeah,” Ryan answered slowly, obviously confused. “I set up an alert for flights there as soon as you told me you were going to the Garrison.”

Veronica cleared her throat and folded up the plane tickets, her face a cross between heartbroken and guilty. “Oh,” she whispered, her voice catching slightly.

Rosa picked up her fork and shoved a piece of food in her mouth to get the attention off of Veronica for a second. She chewed for a moment and swallowed, managing to hold off from gagging. “Wow, _Papá_ , it’s amazing!” she said, a bit too loudly. “Just like _Mamá’s_.” Everyone took that as a cue to start eating.

After the tense, awkward meal, Lance helped his mother with dishes and slunk upstairs to his room before anyone could rope him into socializing some more. He paced for a while until he heard the distinct sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. Not even two seconds later, the shouting started.

He peeked through his curtains and easily spotted Veronica and Ryan below, and while he couldn’t hear all of their words through the thick, glass window, he could already tell what they were arguing about.

He sighed and watched them for a minute. It was hard, in more ways than one, to see them fight. They’d been together for over two years, but long before Veronica even knew Ryan existed, he and _Lance_ were best friends.

See, Ryan had been their neighbor for as long as the McClains had been in Florida. He was one of the first people they made friends with, and when Lance had finally gotten over his shyness (a trait that pretty much melted away just a few years later) and actually _talked_ to Ryan, they’d quickly become boyfriends.

Er, well, there was actually a _space_ between that. Boy _friends_. Friends who were boys.

They could talk to each other about practically anything. While sitting on the bleachers outside in front of the football field during lunch, they ate and chatted about anything and everything. Lance _still_ remembered asking Ryan if he’d rather drink just water for the rest of his life or drink anything he wanted but with a drop of pee in it. Ryan had answered that he’d rather have the drop of pee with almost no hesitation, and they’d spent the rest of the lunch period smiling and discussing how neither of them were willing to give up Starbucks even if it meant having to deal with a bit of pee.

They didn’t _stop_ being friends when Ryan and Veronica got together, but it was still different. In an effort to include Lance as much as possible and keep him from feeling like a third wheel, they invited him on every date. He’d had to put up with dinners, movies, carnivals, you name it. And regardless of how _normal_ Ryan and Veronica had tried making it feel, Lance _still_ felt like a third wheel. And he _definitely_ noticed how when Lance had asked Ryan and Veronica the same “would you rather” a few weeks after they’d started dating, Ryan’s answer had changed to parrot Veronica’s: “Water. Pee is _so_ gross.”

It wasn’t that Lance wanted to _steal_ Ryan from Veronica. Veronica, for how cold she could sometimes be, was still amazing and deserved an equally amazing guy like Ryan. They were annoyingly perfect for each other.

But feelings were feelings. You didn’t choose them; they just _happened_ sometimes. And when feelings happened to _Lance_ , he thankfully had an outlet he could use before they got out of control: writing.

Now, Lance wasn’t a poet by any means, even if he _did_ write original songs sometimes. He also wasn’t that great of a creative writer, either. Stories came easily to him, but they were usually dumb ones that he told his younger relatives to get them to sleep, and he found just _telling_ them a lot easier than writing them down.

So instead, Lance decided to channel his emotions into a letter. It was clear, concise, and was easier to write than a short story or poem or song lyric since it didn’t have to be all fancy and flowery. Lance added a _bit_ of flair, of course - he was _Lance_ , after all - but in the end, it was just a letter.

Lance wrote a _lot_ of letters, actually. Mostly they were to his family back in Cuba or the pen-pal-turned-actual-friend he had in American Samoa named Hunk, but he’d written love letters before too.

In total, there were five love letters: Jennie from his old summer camp, Keith from seventh grade, Allura from freshman Homecoming, John from model UN, and, of course, Ryan. All of the letters were dated, signed, and addressed, but Lance had never actually _sent_ a letter before. He never, _ever_ planned on _sending_ one of his letters.

The letters were Lance’s version of a diary, though one he only updated when he had a crush so intense that he had no idea what else to do about it. They reminded him how _powerful_ his emotions could be sometimes and how sweet it felt to feel like you were in love. He knew that his family would tease him for how _dramatic_ that sounded, so he hid them in a shoebox, only taking them out to reread them or relocate them to a new box so that his family wouldn’t get suspicious about why he had a shoebox belonging to a pair of shoes he hadn’t worn in three years.

That night, Lance found himself gravitating towards his letters, and before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor of his bedroom and taking out the one addressed to Ryan. He read it with a small, sad smile on his face, but before he could even get halfway through, someone interrupted.

“What’re you doing?” Veronica asked from his doorway, and he quickly shoved the letters back in the shoebox.

“Nothing!” he answered, wincing at how fast and nervous his answer was. Veronica would see through it in a heartbeat, though he _really_ hoped she was still to upset from the fight with Ryan to press it.

Luck was on his side, thankfully. Veronica set down the large, cardboard box she’d been holding and flopped down on Lance’s bed without another word. Seemingly instinctively, she grabbed a large, blue lion plushie from the center of his bed and hugged it close to her chest, hiding her face in its mane.

Without a word, Lance set his shoebox full of love letters aside and carefully climbed into bed beside her. Settling back against the headboard, he looked down at her sadly. They sat in silence for a moment before Lance broke it with a soft, “Hey, Ronnie, you okay?”

Veronica didn’t even _react_ to her least favorite nickname, and Lance’s frown deepened. “I just broke up with Ryan,” she said quietly, her voice carefully even.

“You _what_?!” Lance exclaimed, sitting up straighter and gaping down at her. _“Why?!”_

“Mom’s always said I should never go to college with a boyfriend,” Veronica stated matter-of-factly. It unnerved Lance how easy it was for her to hide her heartbreak.

“But... you _love_ him,” he protested weakly.

“I know,” she whispered.

They sat in silence for another minute before he asked, hesitant, “Do you think you’re gonna change your mind?”

Veronica sighed and slowly sat up. She quickly redid her bun and wiped at her eyes. Lance caught sight of a tear before it was swiped away. “No,” she said finally, her voice firm and absolute again. “No, I’m not.”

She took a deep breath and stood up again, going over to the large box she’d brought in. “Anyways. When I was packing up for the Garrison, I had _Mamá_ make a box of stuff we could donate to Goodwill.” She was back to pretending that nothing had changed. It was just like her. “I made _you_ a box as well. I think you should donate some stuff.”

Lance looked around his room. It was relatively neat, aside from a small pile of dirty laundry overflowing from his hamper and an equally overflowing garbage can by his desk. His eyes landed next on his hoard of stuffed animals in a huge basket in the corner by his walk-in closet, and he gulped. Fixing Veronica with the best puppy-dog eyes he could manage, he asked in a pitiful, small voice, “Do I _have_ to?”

Veronica sighed and rolled her eyes. _“Yes,”_ she answered firmly. Just like he’d feared, she went straight for the hoard of stuffed animals, picking one up at random. He didn’t even _remember_ where he’d gotten that tiger, but he pouted anyways. “Lance, half of these don’t even have sentimental value to you, you’re just a hoarder of all things soft and cute!”

“You say that like it’s a _bad_ thing,” he muttered, crossing his arms and pouting harder.

Veronica rolled her eyes again and tossed the tiger plushie into the cardboard box, ignoring Lance’s cry and slapping his hand away when he tried to take it back out. “ _Leave. It._ Or I’ll tell _Mamá_ you’re not cooperating and then she’ll clean your room out _herself_ ,” she threatened seriously.

Lance relented and collapsed back onto his bed with a groan. Veronica surveyed him for a moment before sighing and sitting down as well. She poked his leg until he looked up at her.

“Leandro,” she murmured, and Lance scowled slightly. No one ever pulled out his real name unless they were being serious and adult-y. “I’m leaving for another state practically on the other side of the country. That means that _you’re_ going to be the oldest kid in the house. Nadia and Sylvio look up to you more than they look up to Rachel or Marco. That means you’re going to have to be a good role model for them.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a glare. “And good role models _don’t_ hoard stuffed animals.”

Lance huffed and averted his eyes. “Can we just go back to talking about how you’re sad?” Veronica ignored him and grabbed a pillow instead, her expression screaming homicide via asphyxiation.

 

Veronica always said that when something was no longer useful, you should either donate it, recycle it, or throw it away. Lance parroted that idea, but only when applied to _objects_. He never knew she thought that way about _people_ sometimes too.

That’s all Lance could think about the next day as he awkwardly avoided making eye contact across the low fence that separated his and Ryan’s houses and climbed into Luis’s overstuffed minivan. It stunk of old Cheerios and childhood memories, but it was the only thing big enough to transport Edward, Rosa, Carlos, Veronica, Lance, Luis, Lisa, Nadia, and Sylvio to the airport to see Veronica off. As such, they respectfully didn’t comment on the smell or cramped quarters. Or, apparently, the awkward tension in the air.

The ride to the airport was filled with the attempts to disperse said tension. Everyone carefully avoided talking about Ryan or the break-up - too worried about what Veronica’s reaction would be - so instead they stuck to safer topics. Edward asked Veronica about what the Garrison was like for the millionth time, Rosa kept asking if she’d brought such-and-such along and reminding Veronica to call as often as she could, and Nadia and Sylvio kept bugging Veronica to tell them every classified thing she could about the aliens she’d be learning about on her upcoming internship opportunities with the Navy.

“ _What_ aliens?” Veronica asked, genuinely confused.

 _“You know!”_ Sylvio hissed. He made a big show of looking around and leaning closer. “ _The_ aliens. The ones the government won’t tell us about!”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Please, Sylvio. If there were aliens, we would know about it. The government couldn’t keep _that_ big of a secret for very long. Someone would’ve snapped and told us by now.”

“That’s just what they _want_ you to think,” Sylvio intoned with all the confidence of a elementary student that hadn’t yet felt the crushing weight of America’s educational system or the uncertainty of puberty. Lance envied him, honestly. “It’s the _government_ , Veronica. They could cover up whatever they wanted.”

“Someone’s _bound_ to find out, though,” she shot back. “It happens all the time with government cover-ups. Most famously, it happened with the Pentagon Papers and the Watergate scandal, just to name a few. The government’s powerful, yes, but so are its _people_. That’s why we’re a _democracy_ , not a dictatorship. All of the government’s power comes from the people. That’s us. We keep them in check.”

Lance tuned out the rest of her impassioned speech and stared out the window at the scenery rolling by. Altea wasn’t very big and was stuck in the middle of the state with the ocean a whole two hours away, but it was still pretty, and Lance had long since come to think of it as home. It sucked that _Veronica_ wouldn’t be calling it home anymore, though. It sucked even _more_ that she was obviously still sad about breaking up with Ryan and probably not as stable as she had tricked herself into thinking she was.

What sucked most of all, though, was the fact that deep down in Lance’s treacherous heart, he was already fantasizing about telling Ryan how he felt.

He tried his hardest not to think about it, tried to focus instead on how guilty and disgusting he would feel doing something like that _regardless_ of how long it had been since Veronica had broken up with Ryan, but it wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been, and Lance felt his mood worsen.

 _I’m awful,_ Lance thought to himself, cringing.

All too soon, they were pulling up to the airport, and after a huge flurry of confusion and panic, they were in front of the security checkpoint, as far as they could go without tickets themselves. Edward was already knee-deep in a rant about how _awful_ airports had gotten after 9/11, and Rosa had to quickly talk him down before he got them landed on a no-fly list or kicked out of the airport. He eventually quieted, but only under threat that he wouldn’t be allowed to see Veronica off again if he kept making a scene.

Lance hung back slightly as Veronica began to exchange hugs and kisses and “I love you’s” with everyone. She moved quickly and efficiently through the long line of family and was pulling him in for a hug before he had finished suppressing how disgusting and gross and horrible he felt for thinking so much about dating Ryan.

Still, he forced himself to hug back, and he didn’t stop until Veronica did. Sensing that the two needed some time alone, Rosa ushered the rest of the family away, making up some excuse about how Veronica needed a magazine to keep herself entertained on the flight. No one tried reminding her that Veronica already had six novels in her carry-on and would probably alarm security if she tried to cram anything else in.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked hesitantly. She’d never been as good as her other family members at emotional stuff, but Lance knew she was trying, and he’d been dying to talk about this anyways.

“Did you _have_ to go to the furthest college you could think of?” he blurted, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. It was too hot to be wearing a jacket, but Lance needed the comfort it brought.

Veronica’s nervous smile dropped, and she looked away guiltily. Lance continued anyways. “I mean, who am I gonna eat lunch with?"

“You have, like, a _million_ friends, Lance,” she reminded him gently.

“Yeah, but not any I would want to eat _lunch_ with!” he countered, scowling. “You _know_ how much I hate having people watch me eat food! Only, like, _Pidge_ gets that privilege, and she’s usually off in the library studying or sneaking off campus to get Wendy’s or Panda Express or something equally superior to the school’s cafeteria food.”

Veronica sighed. “Lance, _everyone_ eats food. So what if you sometimes forget that you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full? _Everyone_ does that; even _Mamá_!”

Lance shook his head resolutely. “Nope, no way in hell, Ronnie,” he snapped. “We’re not getting into this again.”

Veronica rolled her eyes and fiddled with her purse for a moment before looking back up, serious. “If you need me, I’m just a Skype call away,” she reminded him quietly. “For _anything_. You don’t have to worry about bothering me."

Lance pouted. “So you say,” he grumbled. “But then you’re gonna make a ton of new friends at the Garrison and going out to bars every night off and forgetting all about us.”

"You underestimate my ability to make friends and also my distaste for alcohol."

“Still. It could happen.”

Veronica laughed quietly and lightly shoved his shoulder. Lance’s lips twitched up in a small smile in spite of himself.

“We couldn’t decide on what to get you, so we just kind of got everything,” Nadia announced, jogging back over. She and Sylvio both were holding a small stack of magazines, but Lance could already tell that was _way_ too many magazines for Veronica’s overstuffed bag. He sighed and took them.

“This is too much, guys,” Veronica said, seemingly reading Lance’s mind. She took one from off the top and read the title, eyebrow raised. “‘Road and Track’. Yeah, I don’t think this one’s for me."

Rosa engulfed Veronica in another hug almost before she could pass the magazine back to Lance. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re going to miss you so much!” she exclaimed into Veronica’s shoulder. Veronica laughed, and that was all it took for all of the McClains to pile in for a big group hug.

After a minute, she spoke up. “Okay, that’s enough hugging or I’m gonna miss my flight.” Slowly but surely, they all backed up, and Veronica, her hair now slightly messed up from countless noogies and fond tousles, looked at each and every one of them, smiling. “I love you all. And I’ll call as soon as I land."

They nodded and started waving and shouting obnoxiously as she slowly picked up her bags, took her stack of magazines from Lance, and made her way towards the security checkpoint. She was doing a great job of pretending she didn’t know them, and when the security guard glared at them right before taking Veronica’s ticket, they finally quieted and watched in silence as her ticket was scanned and she was ushered through.

“Think she’ll turn around?” Nadia asked after a moment, right as Veronica was about to turn the corner.

Lance didn’t know who she was talking to, but he answered anyways. “No,” he murmured, laying a hand on Nadia’s shoulder. “That’s not Veronica."

They watched as she disappeared from sight, and no one spoke for another minute. Then Sylvio turned and asked Rosa, “Can we have a dog now?”

They all laughed, and Rosa wiped away her tears before answering, “No, but that was a good try.”


	2. Last First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's first day of school doesn't go as planned and embarrassment abounds, but when does the universe _ever_ stop fucking with him?

The last few days of school passed by way too quickly for Lance’s liking. He managed to wrangle one good beach trip out of his family before the rest of his days of freedom were used slowly filling his Goodwill box with stuffed animals and clothing he didn’t wear often enough. He mourned the loss of so many of his stuffed animals - they were _all_ precious in his eyes, regardless of what his family thought about his “hoarding” - but anything was better than having Rosa come in and clean for herself. Lance shuddered to think what she would do if she found his letters while cleaning out his closet.

Rosa shipped off the box without giving Lance any time to have second thoughts, and then the last day of summer was spent going back-to-school shopping with Lance, Sylvio, Nadia, and Rachel, who was going to be starting up classes at the local college fairly soon. It was pretty fun, but Lance was still set on sulking so that his family would know just how upset he was over losing so many of his stuffed animals.

The next morning, Lance awoke to his shrill alarm and his mother banging on his door asking if he wanted pancakes. He grumbled back something incoherent, but after years spent being Lance’s mother, Rosa knew that it was a “yes” and shouted that he’d better get up and eat them quickly because she was _not_ going to excuse them being late on the first day. Lance spent a few minutes fiddling on his phone to get himself awake before dragging himself out of bed and officially starting his day.

You think he’d be used to early mornings by now, what with band camp having ended the day after Veronica had left - Coran, their band director, had been more than understanding and had let Lance leave early to see his sister off - but apparently even just a few _days_ of bad sleeping habits threw his whole schedule out the window.

Still, Lance managed to drag himself through it all and find himself groaning dramatically as Rosa thrust a pair of all-too-familiar miniature chalkboards at him and Nadia, who was looking a _lot_ more awake than Lance, something he envied _very_ much.

The chalkboards were already ready for them, Rosa’s neat but beautiful cursive spelling out “Sixth Grade!” on Nadia’s board and “Senior Year!” on Lance’s. Rosa began barking at them in Spanish to pose and _smile_ , Lance, and if anything, he should be _happy_ that this would be the last time he’d have to do this. That brought a small smile to Lance’s face, and with just a bit more coaxing, Rosa was satisfied and snapped at least a dozen photos of her two “big, grown-up kids”.

Nadia’s comment about how that was technically an oxymoron was quickly interrupted by Lance clapping his hands together and shouting, “Alright, time to go! We don’t want to be late on our first day, do we?”

“Oh, one sec!” Nadia shouted, already tossing her board at Lance and rushing back towards the house. “I forgot something!”

Lance exchanged a quick frown with Rosa, both of them wondering what Nadia _possibly_ could’ve forgotten when she already had her backpack all ready to go and even a book to read in case things got slow during classes. Nadia answered their question just a few seconds later by running back out, a bike helmet in her hand. “Alright, _now_ I’m ready to go,” she said, strapping it on with a smile.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Nadia,” he grumbled.

“I think you mean ‘very _necessary_ ’,” she corrected immediately. “ _You_ might not think that your driving’s that bad and the dude who _gave_ you your lisence was probably too high to realize it either, but trust me, I’m probably gonna need it.”

She gave Rosa a quick hug and began to skip towards their car: a 2010 baby blue MINI Cooper that Lance had bought for himself after two years of various miscellaneous jobs around his neighborhood and summers spent working as a lifeguard at the local pool. He growled something in Spanish at Nadia’s retreating back that got him a good smack from Rosa, but barely a second later, she was pulling him in for a hug. It took a second, but he melted into it pretty quickly.

“Oh, I’m gonna miss you when you go off for college…!” Rosa sighed. “I know you don’t want to go to Altea University, but... I still sometimes wish you were going to be close enough to just commute every day. That way I don’t have to say goodbye to _all_ of my children.”

“You’ll still have Rachel,” Lance pointed out, pulling away from her after another moment.

Rosa nodded. “True, but that’s still only _one_ child out of five. I wish I at least had two.”

Lance kissed her forehead and started to walk away. “Well, you’ve still got me for another year,” he assured with a grin. “And I don’t think I’ll be moving all the way to Arizona for school.”

“That’s what _Veronica_ said!” Rosa laughed. “And look where _that_ got me!”

Lance snorted and pulled open the car door. He wrestled with Nadia for the AUX cord for a few seconds before winning and starting to blast some vintage Taylor Swift. Nadia groaned, but Lance caught her humming along after they shakily backed out of the driveway and eased into traffic.

Despite Nadia’s fussing, they made it to school unscathed. Were there a few close calls? Maybe, but Lance maintained that he’d almost T-boned that car because _they_ were running a red light, not him. And if he had to race away before someone could try reporting him, that was just because they were beginning to run late.

The great thing about the middle and high schools being right next to each other was that they could both start and end at the same time, and Lance didn’t have to go out of his way to drop off his niece. He simply found a suitable spot in the parking lot, bid her goodbye and wished her good luck on her first day of middle school, and they both started off towards their respective building.

Walking down the hall of his school for what would be his last first day of regular schooling was a bit of a surreal experience. It didn’t _feel_ any more significant than his last eleven first-days, but there was something about _finally_ being top dog and having underclassmen duck out of his way that made him feel a bit more important than before. He smiled widely when he spotted friends on his way towards his locker, and when he saw Ryan avoiding his gaze as he walked past, he tried to pretend it didn’t bother him.

Thankfully something managed to take his mind off of it pretty quickly. He turned a corner and was suddenly slamming into a solid mass of expensive cologne and bleached-white hair that was supposedly _insured_ , if the rumors were true.

“Shit, sorry, Lotor!” Lance apologized hastily, backing up a step and throwing the owner of the $400 hair an apologetic smile. It didn’t do the trick.

“Are you incapable of getting your head out of the clouds long enough to watch where you’re going?” the boy sneered in a familiar, posh British accent. Lance was pretty sure it was fake, but he wasn’t about to tell _Lotor Diabazaal_ that, not when he was the most popular, influential, and attractive person in school. Lance bit his tongue to keep from breaking his neutral, polite facade.

Lotor carefully rearranged the two tiny pieces of his (admittedly glorious) white hair that had fallen out of place and gave Lance a quick once-over. Lance shivered under his gaze and immediately curled in on himself a bit as he saw Lotor’s eyes fall on his Converse.

They were made from artfully faded, galaxy-printed fabric and had a quote from Neil deGrasse Tyson carefully printed on the right shoe in white fabric marker: “We are not figuratively, but literally stardust.” He’d spent quite some time that summer designing and making them, and up until two seconds ago, he’d been very proud of them.

It was odd how just five or six years ago, this wouldn’t have been a problem for Lance.

See, before Lotor decided he wanted to rule the school and couldn’t have any nerdy friends like Lance, he and Lance had actually been pretty close. They’d been friends since Lance had first moved to Florida, being one of the first friends Lance had made - after Ryan, of course.

But then that fateful game of Spin the Bottle had happened, and the next day, Lance was dumped for Lotor’s much “cooler” posse: Acxa Rose, Ezor Glenn, Zethrid Hyder, Narti Kova, Nyma Chabert (and by extension, Rolo Reedus), and, of course, Lotor’s boytoy, Keith Kogane. And yes, that was the _same_ Keith Kogane that Lance had had to kiss for Spin the Bottle. It was kind of surprising how long he’d managed to stay with Lotor. Lance could hardly stand Lotor’s “holier than thou” attitude when he’d cranked it up to eleven in middle school, but Keith was probably used to it by now.

Lotor’s attractive face curled up into a very nasty smile. “Oh, did you find those in a Goodwill?” he asked.

Lance didn’t answer, but that was good enough for Lotor, apparently, because his smile only got wider and nastier. “They’re so cool!” he exclaimed loudly, drawing a few looks. Lance tried not to notice how Keith Kogane was one of them. “No one can pull off ‘repurposed thrift store chic’ like you, Lance.”

Lance flushed and scowled slightly. “I made them _myself_ , actually,” he snapped. He opened his mouth to continue, but someone was suddenly standing at his shoulder.

“And they’re really cool,” the mess of light brown hair chuckled. “That a Neil deGrasse Tyson quote?”

“You know it.” Lance smiled and lifting his hand for a fist bump. Pidge instantly indulged him, but her smile disappeared as soon as she locked eyes with Lotor.

Katie Holt - or Pidge, as most called her - was snappy, whip-smart, and sarcastic. At first, she’d thought Lance was annoying and over-dramatic and refused to talk to him more than necessary, but in her words, Lance had “grown on [her] like a malignant tumor”. He didn’t really like the way she’d worded it or compared him to a deadly growth, but he decided that that was the best he was probably going to get out of her and hugged her anyways. Pidge was also almost two feet shorter than Lance, two years younger, and going to graduate as Lance’s valedictorian. She called herself a “child genius”, and while Lance would normally call bullshit, she had the credentials to back that statement up.

Pidge gave Lotor a quick once over and smirked slightly, crossing her arms. “I think you should really get yourself checked out by a doctor, Lotor,” she said, mock-innocent. “I don’t think it’s healthy to have a stick so far up your ass.”

Lance tried to disguise his snort as a cough, but judging by Lotor’s scowl, he didn’t quite manage it. Lance bit his lip and looked down at his shoes, rocking back onto his heels. He noticed a pair of black combat boots coming to stand right next to Lotor’s expensive-looking loafers, but he didn’t dare look up to see who they belonged to. He kind of already guessed.

His guess was confirmed a second later. Lotor took a deep breath, probably ready to try roasting Pidge in return, but a familiar voice interrupted him. Lance looked up just enough to see pale, toned arms encircling Lotor’s waist. “Hey, babe,” the one and only Keith Kogane rumbled.

Lance groaned internally and looked away. He caught sight of a flyer for the drama club and tried to focus on figuring out if he could join while also trying to balance marching band, swim team, and babysitting instead of on Keith and Lotor being all gross and couple-y.

And yes, this was still the same Keith that Lance had kissed in seventh grade during Spin the Bottle. And the second non-recipient of one of Lance’s dramatic love letters that he would never send. As Lance briefly met Keith’s eyes, his mind flashed, against his will, to one of the lines he’d put in the letter: _“Every time the light hits your eyes, I’m left breathless; I could get lost in the purple-hued galaxies hiding in your irises.”_ He flushed at the thought and immediately looked away again.

“I was just complimenting Lance on his thrift store Converse,” Lotor said, his voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness. Lance flushed even hotter and shuffled his feet awkwardly as he saw Keith glance down at his shoes.

Suddenly, though, Lotor seemed to lose interest and pulled away from Keith. “Now come on, I see someone we need to say hi to,” he said, not even bothering to say goodbye to Pidge or Lance. Not that they were complaining, of course; Lance once said (only to Pidge, of course, but still) that he could feel himself slowly growing just as cold and bitter and pathetic as Lotor every time Lotor pretended to be polite to them.

“I--” Keith started to say, but Lotor was already gone. He sighed quietly and looked back at Lance and Pidge. Lance was staring slightly to Keith’s right while Pidge regarded him with an unamused expression, no doubt waiting to hear whatever bullshit excuse he came up with for Lotor’s bitchiness.

Keith didn’t disappoint. “...He stopped drinking coffee for some diet,” he mumbled pathetically. “I think he’s in withdrawal.”

Lance shared a smirk with Pidge and finally looked Keith in the eye, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I hope it goes well. But are you sure he doesn’t just have a chemical imbalance?” he asked, tilting his head in mock concern.

For a second, Lance thought he saw Keith’s lips tug into a smile, but just like that, it was gone. With one last lingering glance to Lance’s shoes, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Lance turned to Pidge as soon as he was gone. “Do you really think my shoes are cool?” he asked, smiling bashfully.

Pidge laughed and lightly punched his arm, already turning to walk away. “If you ask, it makes it _less_ cool, actually,” she informed him. Lance pouted but followed without complaint.

 

Lunch was hell, and not just because the school food kind of sucked and the cafeteria was too overcrowded. For such a small town, Voltron High had a really big student population. Maybe it was just because there were a lot of big families around or because the school district was so big, but regardless, Lance was still left scrambling for a seat. And while it hadn’t been so bad whenever he’d sit with Veronica since she was not afraid to shank a bitch just to sit down, now he was stuck with his non-confrontational nature and no Pidge to sit with either.

He texted her to ask where she was, and a minute later - which had felt like a _year_ when Lance was awkwardly standing near the doors to the kitchens, trying and failing to look busy with something on his phone - she’d replied “went 2 get pizza srry scrub”. Pidge had tried in the past to invite Lance along on her nigh-daily, illegal food runs before, but Lance was too terrified of what would happen should they get caught that he always turned her down. At this point, she knew to stop asking.

Lance sighed heavily and made his way to the library on the second floor. He found an empty table fairly easily and got out his lunch. As soon as he pulled out his carrots, though, a librarian came over and calmly pointed to a sign that said “SOFT FOODS ONLY” with a picture of a carrot crossed out. He apologized quietly and left before he could get into any more trouble.

With nowhere else to go, he found himself sitting on the sports bleachers. Technically students weren’t allowed outside for anything other than PE, but the teachers had long since stopped trying to enforce that rule, and the students had pretty much free reign of the campus as long as they weren’t supposed to be in class.

Of _course_ , though, someone was already sitting on the bleachers. And while that would normally be fine, it was none other than Ryan, who Lance had been pretty much avoiding since his and Veronica’s break-up. It was too late to turn around by the time Lance realized he was sitting there, Ryan having glanced up when he saw someone walking over and immediately spotting Lance. He quickly pulled out his earbuds and mumbled a quick “hey”. He smiled, but Lance could see that it was a bit strained.

“Is this seat taken?” Lance asked lightly, gesturing to the spot next to him. Ryan shook his head, and Lance gingerly sat down.

He’d barely gotten off his backpack before Ryan was sighing and asking, “I gotta ask... Did she tell you she was going to do it?” Lance stopped taking out his lunch again, his face falling. “I just figured you guys talk about everything, so…”

Lance shook his head slightly and slowly took out his lunch. “She didn’t,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” He looked over, his expression pained.

Ryan frowned deeper, hurt. Still, he tried to brighten back up. “ _We’re_ still cool, though, right?” he asked tentatively.

Lance smiled and immediately nodded. “Of course,” he said. Ryan’s smile came a little bit easier, and Lance felt his heart give a small flutter.

And they actually _were_ cool. Regardless of Lance’s feelings for Ryan, he would _never_ do that to Veronica or Ryan. They _both_ needed time to heal, and Lance had already accepted long ago that Ryan would never feel that way about him. He’d always been just a friend in Ryan’s eyes, and he was slowly learning to accept that that was more than enough.

 

Lance rolled his eyes slightly as Nadia chatted his ear off, telling him all about her first day. “...Allison wanted to sit next to me, but so did Katie and Taylor, so I had to come up with a system where they all switched places every few minutes so that everyone got to sit next to me, you know?” she exclaimed, smiling.

“Oh, of _course_ ,” Lance mumbled sarcastically. “How is it that I’m _just_ as big of a social butterfly as you, but I _don’t_ have people fighting to sit next to me at lunch?”

“Probably because you don’t _let_ anyone sit with you at lunch because you’re self-conscious or something,” Nadia shot back without hesitation.

“Ouch, Nadia, that _hurt_!” he gasped dramatically, shooting her a betrayed expression.

She smirked. “The truth often does, uncle dearest,” she snickered, ducking into the car before Lance could reply. He huffed, and after throwing his stuff in the backseat, got into the driver’s side.

He just finished clicking on his seatbelt when he saw Nadia pull out her bike helmet again, snapping it into place. He gave her a deadpan look. _“Really?”_

Nadia rolled her eyes, not even bothering to respond. Lance scowled and turned on the car, trying to ignore how Nadia rushed to put on her seatbelt before Lance even had his foot on the break.

He put the car in reverse and started backing up, too busy grumbling to himself in his head to remember looking back. Nadia screamed, and he started, slamming the break instinctively.

That turned out to be the right move. His eyes snapped to the rearview mirror in time to see Keith Kogane staring incredulously back. He flushed and groaned, hiding his face in his hands. Nadia cackled on his other side. “Good thing I’m wearing my helmet, huh?”

A knock came from the window a second or so later. Lance slowly drew his hands away from his face to lower it, staring resolutely at the logo in the middle of his steering wheel. He could see Keith ducking down to peer through the window out of the corner of his eye, but still, he didn’t move.

“Hi,” Keith greeted, a slightly sarcastic note to his voice.

“Hi,” Lance repeated back, his cheeks burning darker.

“How you doing?” Keith asked, and Lance could only meet his gaze for a second before having to look away again.

“Good,” Lance replied with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know people usually check _behind_ them before backing up, right?” Keith snapped, and yep, there it was. “It’s to avoid _running people over_.”

Lance nodded bashfully and stammered out a weak excuse. “I’m just, uh, not comfortable with my mirrors yet,” he whispered, shoulders slowly creeping up to his ears as he hunched in on himself.

“Clearly,” Keith snorted. His smile dropped a second later. “You are the worst driver ever.” If Lance wasn’t so embarrassed and jittery from almost killing a man, he would’ve protested.

An awkward second passed before Keith sighed quietly and asked, a bit more gentle, “Do you think you’re gonna be able to make it out of the parking lot?”

“Yeah, no, we’re fine!” Lance said loudly. He flashed Keith a quick, forced grin. “Really, seriously. We’re good.” He swallowed and looked away again. “So you should just... g-go…”

“Sure, whatever you say, McClain,” Keith said with a sigh, straightening. He half-turned before suddenly ducking down again and pointing towards Nadia. “Hey, uh, _you_ are in charge now. Since _he_ ” - Keith pointed briefly back towards Lance - “can’t drive.”

Keith walked away without another word, and Lance silently closed his window, his eyes shut tight and cheeks flushed crimson. Nadia was cackling in the passenger’s seat again.

“Who was _that_?” she asked gleefully.

“Keith Kogane,” Lance answered stiffly.

Nadia smirked knowingly and sat back. Lance did too, and she shot him a confused glance. “What’re we waiting for?” she asked.

“We’re waiting for all the other cars to leave.”

Nadia groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter woohoo! i know the first one was a bit slow, what with it only focusing on lance and his family and barely introducing anyone else (let alone keith, who i know everyone was waiting for), so i've decided to post this next chapter now instead of waiting till tomorrow. guess i'm just as impatient as the rest of you, huh?
> 
> anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed! and, as always, comments/kudos/reviews/etc. are always appreciated! :D


	3. Sent and Delivered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God apparently wants Lance to die of embarrassment. For better or for worse, though, he's still alive.

The first week of school went by without much more incident. Lance was a _lot_ more careful when backing up and drove _exactly_ the speed limit despite all the pissed-off drivers who got stuck behind him. Lance avoided Keith like the plague for the rest of the week, despite how hard it was to be in the same English class as him and have to see him as the band practiced on the football field as the players took a warm-up jog around the track.

Lance thought he saw Keith staring at him a few times, but he dismissed it almost immediately. It was probably just the heat getting to his head, which kind of sucked because he’d already tried cooling down by taking off his shirt and dunking water on his head. What the hell else could he do other than pray that time would move faster?

Other than Friday night’s football game (they’d won, of course), Lance barely even _heard_ about Keith until the next night. Saturday night found himself having a _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ marathon with Nadia. They were three seasons in, and Lance was beginning to feel sleepy, but he wasn’t about to turn the TV off. It wouldn’t be the first time he and Nadia had fallen asleep on the couch during TV marathons.

“What do you think Veronica’s doing tonight?” Lance asked suddenly. Despite how much he loved _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ , his mind was focused on other things.

“Drinking,” Nadia answered without hesitation.

Lance sat bolt upright, gasping. “Nadia!”

Nadia threw her hands up, exasperated. “I’m not a _baby_ anymore, Lance! I know what alcohol is! Besides, you and I _both_ know that she’s responsible enough to take care of herself.”

Lance sighed and slumped back down. He was silent for another moment before asking, quieter, “Is it just me, or is it weird not having her here?”

“It’s weird,” Nadia agreed just as quietly. “It’s weird not having Ryan here either. I miss his impressions.”

They both smiled slightly and laughed as a funny scene played out on screen. Nadia seemed to think of something and sat back up, regarding Lance for a moment before talking. “You know, Lance, if you had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t have to drive at all because he would take you everywhere.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “And what if I had a _girlfriend_?”

Nadia shrugged. “Same story, hopefully, but…”

_“But?”_ Lance prompted. Nadia shrugged and looked away. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, already knowing that she wouldn’t answer. He was too tired to get into a stubbornness match with her. “Well, either way, if that’s the case, you’ll be waiting for your knight in shining armor for a _long_ time. Your uncle’s going to be a lonely spinster for a _while_.”

Nadia smirked, and Lance immediately shot her a wary look. “What about the guy you almost killed the other day?” she asked, trying to be sly.

Lance snorted and looked back at the TV, shaking his head. “Yeah, no way, Nadia. That’ll never happen.”

“Why not? He was cute!”

“Good to know that’s all it takes to woo you.”

She tried throwing a pillow at him, but he’d expected it and easily fended it off with his forearm. “And anyways, even if I _did_ like him, he’d never like me back. And even if he _did_ , by some miracle, it wouldn’t matter. He’s dating _Lotor_.”

Nadia frowned but stayed quiet for a minute. Lance tried to refocus on the show, but Nadia spoke up again before he could get his mind to shut up long enough to hear what the characters were saying. “It’s not _just_ that, Lance,” she murmured, shifting forward until he looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“...Don’t you find it kind of... _depressing_ that it’s a Saturday night, and you’re watching a _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ marathon with your niece?” she asked hesitantly.

Lance frowned slightly. “No,” he said. “I love hanging out with you.”

Nadia smiled briefly, but it dropped just as quickly. She sighed. “Okay, let me rephrase that. And I’m not trying to say this to make you feel bad, but... Lance, I’m _eleven_ , and I _cancelled_ plans to be here with you. You’re _seventeen_ , and I don’t think you had anything else going on tonight. Am I right?”

Lance sat up to glare down at her. “That is _way_ harsh, Nadia!”

She smirked back up at him. “The truth hurts, uncle dearest.”

 

(A figure paused in the doorway of the kitchen, the uncle and niece completely oblivious to their existence. They’d overheard the whole conversation while creeping downstairs to steal some ice cream, and Nadia’s words got them thinking.

They crept back upstairs and waited a few more hours. When they were sure Lance and Nadia were asleep on the couch downstairs, they snuck across the hallway and into Lance’s room. Gently shutting the door behind them and avoiding all the spots in the floor that creaked loudly despite the plush, baby blue carpet, they made it to Lance’s closet without incident and flicked on the light.

There, just barely visible on the top shelf opposite the door, was an out-of-place shoebox. They used to house a pair of loafers Lance had gotten for Christmas last year, but the loafers were neatly stacked on a shoe rack by the door, and the figure knew that they weren’t there just for easier access.

No, it was to make room for something much more important. Something like, say, a small stack of letters Lance had never sent. And how lucky that they were already addressed and ready to go. All they needed now was a stamp.

Rachel McClain grinned devilishly to herself and took a step forward.)

 

The following Monday saw another reappearance of Nadia’s bike helmet as Lance drove them to school. Again, nothing happened, but Nadia still insisted she would need it. They’d bickered about it for no less than five minutes before they’d had to part ways, though Lance shouted at Nadia’s retreating figure, “This isn’t over!”

She didn’t even bother to react, and he huffed as he began walking away as well. He almost forgot to lock the car, but he didn’t have to tell _Nadia_ that.

First period was very hit or miss. Every other day, Lance had Chorus, something he genuinely enjoyed. Today, though, he was stuck running laps around the track in Gym. He’d donned a hoodie to ward off the morning chill, but he’d pushed up the sleeves once he’d started to warm up. Pidge was jogging next to him, and they chatted a bit breathlessly as they tried to complete a mile jog.

“What’d you do this weekend?” Pidge asked after they passed Mr Winters for the second time. He shouted some encouraging words and clapped loudly, shouting that they were getting close. They weren’t even halfway, but Lance thought the gesture was nice.

“I finished another book,” Lance replied. “It was really good.”

“Another trashy romance novel?” Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lance refused to look over, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I enjoy making fun of them, okay? They’re hilariously bad.”

“Right. And that time I caught you crying after reading _The Fault In Our Stars_ was just a fluke.”

“It was!” Lance grumbled, but Pidge just laughed and didn’t believe him.

“Hey, no judgement,” Pidge lied, clearly judging him. Lance was about to fire back a half-hearted retort when someone suddenly called his name.

They slowed and turned in time to see Keith Kogane jogging over, his eyebrows furrowed in a puzzled, uncomfortable expression. Lance matched his frown and came to a stop, Pidge right by his side.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked Lance, his eyes intense and unreadable.

Lance glanced behind him but upon finding no one, he pointed to himself, even more confused now. “Uh, _me_?” he asked.

_“Yes,”_ Keith huffed, looking a bit annoyed.

“Hey, Keith, I heard Lotor dumped you for a college student,” Pidge suddenly said from Lance’s side, smirking and crossing her arms. “How’re you holding up?”

“I heard you’ve hacked into the school’s database so many times you’re considered a wanted criminal,” Keith shot back, scowling. Lance felt a trill of fear on Pidge’s behalf, but she only smirked wider. “How are _you_ holding up?”

She shrugged, not guilty in the slightest. “Probably better than you.” She looked back at Lance. “If you need me, I’ll be in the nurse’s office with a headache and researching how to make a sentient AI. See you at lunch.”

Lance rolled his eyes and waved goodbye, and all too soon, it was just him and Keith standing awkwardly on the side of the track. He bit his lip and looked back at Keith, who had dropped his scowl and was back to staring at Lance with that intense look again. He looked away quickly. “So... what’d you need?” he prompted.

Keith took a second to answer, and when he did, Lance could’ve sworn his cheeks were a bit pink. It was hard to tell in the dawn lighting, though; _everything_ looked pinkish right now, especially people with pale skin like Keith’s. “Look, I just wanted to say... I’m flattered and everything? But it’s _never_ going to happen,” he gritted out, each word sounding like it physically pained him.

Lance blinked slowly, not comprehending in the slightest. “...What?”

Keith huffed and scowled slightly. “That kiss happened _ages_ ago, Lance. It was pretty hot by seventh grade standards, yeah, but it’s been _years_. And it’s really... flattering, I guess, that you think that my eyes look purple sometimes--”

Lance stopped listening, his eyes going wide as he recognized the phrase. He’d never told _anyone_ that he thought that, let alone _Keith_. How did he--?

He paled as a realization struck him. The only place that he’d admitted that he thought Keith’s eyes looked like that was in Keith’s unsent love letter, but that was hidden in his closet at home, right?

One glance down and the sight of a familiar envelope clutched in Keith’s right hand quickly confirmed that no, it was not hidden at home. It was somehow _in Keith’s hands_ , and he’d _definitely_ read it, and holy shit Lance’s vision was starting to go blurry.

He could see and hear, faintly, Keith scowling at the ground and talking about how he and Lotor were in “a weird place right now” and that he didn’t know what Lance was hoping to accomplish, but Lance didn’t reply. Instead, he swayed back and forth a few times, eyelids fluttering, before suddenly collapsing to the ground.

He could hear Keith shout, but it sounded like it was coming from the end of a tunnel, like he was a million miles away. His thoughts were swirling, spiraling, clashing messily and threatening to undo him.

“Wake up!” Keith suddenly shouted, punching his arm.

Lance’s eyes flashed open, and he squinted painfully against the sudden light. Keith’s face was hovering over his own, his eyebrows furrowed in concern (or maybe annoyance, Keith was a tough dude to read sometimes) and lips saying, “You okay?”

Lance wet his lips. “What happened?” he asked, his brain still self-destructing a little bit.

“You fainted,” Keith told him, expression not changing.

“Oh, okay,” Lance said, closing his eyes again and praying to God to let him die right then and there.

God apparently couldn’t make it to the phone right then because Lance _didn’t_ die, and instead, Keith grabbed his hand and started pulling him up. “Come on, let’s get you up,” he said, not even having the decency to sound strained as he pretty much single-handedly hauled Lance to his feet.

Lance rubbed his temples as Keith stared at him. “Do you want me to get you some water or call someone?” Keith asked hesitantly.

“No, I’m okay,” Lance mumbled, sighing and opening his eyes.

“You sure?” Keith asked, not sounding convinced.

Lance’s eyes suddenly caught on a familiar figure walking towards the track, his face confused and maybe a little bit panicked. A millisecond later, Lance spotted the letter clutched in his hand, a letter he knew all too well. He’d wrote it, after all.

Ryan’s eyes caught on his, and Lance whimpered, “Oh my god.” His mind began to spin again. “Oh my god!”

His body made the decision before his brain could weigh in. In a split second of primal fear, when all higher thinking had been turned off and only Lance’s monkey brain was functioning, he leaned over and smashed his lips against Keith. Keith, caught off guard, collapsed against the track, but Lance didn’t stop kissing him until Mr Winters shouted, “McClain! No PDA on my track! You’re supposed to be running! Two extra laps!”

He jumped back like Keith had burned him and only muttered a quick “thank you” before turning tail and sprinting back towards the school. He passed Ryan, who tried to talk to him, but he ignored the boy entirely and didn’t stop running until he was safely inside the locker rooms.

Despite having ten minutes left of gym, Lance changed back into his normal clothes, grabbed his backpack, and found solace in the nearest girl’s bathroom, figuring that Ryan wouldn’t try following him in here.

Before he could even finish catching his breath, however, he heard the door swing open. He froze, hoping that whoever had come inside hadn’t seen him come in here and that he could just wait them out and escape to the band room instead. Coran was super nice - maybe he’d let him camp out in there through homeroom?

“Lance?”

God was really laughing at him today, wasn’t He?

“No,” Lance blurted before he could think better of it.

A dark-skinned, well-manicured hand pushed a letter under the crack of the bathroom stall. It was pastel pink, and written in Lance’s messy handwriting with the special blue pen his birth father had gotten him not long before he walked out. The pen’s backstory wasn’t a happy one, but it was a pretty shade of blue and wrote better than most of Lance’s other pens, so he used it for special occasions.

Like writing a love letter he’d never intended to send.

Lance swallowed, and his mind took him back to the first couple months of freshman year. It was Homecoming night, and Lance was dressed in a baby blue button-up, black slacks, and yellow converse for a pop of color. His hair had been slicked back stylishly by his sister, and he was feeling more confident than usual.

He’d spotted Allura sitting alone at a table, looking a bit bored, and decided hey, why not? She was pretty and obviously alone, so why not ask her for a dance?

“Hi, Allura,” he’d greeted, smiling warmly.

She looked up and returned the smile. “Hi, Lance,” she said in that British accent he liked so much, despite how it made her pronounce his name like “Lonce” and not “Lance”.

She gestured for him to sit, and he did. For a second, they sat in silence before Lance managed to say, “Your dress is really pretty. I like that shade of pink.”

Allura’s grin widened. “Thanks! It’s actually more of a salmon color, really, but yeah! My uncle helped me pick it out.” She paused for a moment before adding, “I really like your outfit too. Very slick.”

They laughed, and Lance mumbled a quick “thanks”. They were silent for another moment, and Lance blurted, “Wanna dance?” before he could lose his nerve.

To his relief, Allura grinned and nodded excitedly. “I thought you’d never ask!” she squealed, standing and pulling Lance to his feet with a surprising amount of strength.

They rushed to the dance floor and spent almost the rest of the night there. They talked in between dances, and Lance found himself quickly falling for the beautiful girl. When Lance had gotten home, he’d raced to his room and written the letter now lying on the floor in front of him, its recipient standing on the other side of the stall.

“I... I didn’t mean to barge in on you,” present-day Allura said, interrupting Lance’s happy memories of Freshman Homecoming. “Especially not since you looked so distressed. You must be if you rushed into the wrong bathroom.” She laughed weakly. “But, um... T-that seemed very personal and... I wanted to give it back. And also make sure you’re okay. _Are_ you okay?”

“Allura, know that I wrote this _years_ ago,” Lance said instead, his face flushed as he snatched up the letter before Allura could take it back.

“Freshman Homecoming, right?” she asked, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

He sighed and hesitantly stepped out of the bathroom stall, turning to face Allura properly. Might as well do this rejection face-to-face and get it over with instead of hiding like a coward.

Like he was doing with Ryan.

...Okay, _fuck_ , now was _not_ the time.

Allura provided a glorious distraction. “I had a lot of fun that night, too, actually,” she laughed quietly. Her smile faded slightly. “But, uh... You _do_ know I’m gay, right?”

Lance’s eyes went wide with shock even as his mouth said, “Yeah, no, I-I knew that!”

Allura didn’t look like she believed him for a second, but thankfully, she let it go. “Um, anyways... Would you mind not really... _telling_ anyone?” she asked hesitantly. “I mean, I’m out and not ashamed, but it’s just…”

“High school?” Lance offered with a wry smile.

Allura laughed. “High school,” she agreed, shaking her head.

 

The rest of the day passed in a panicked blur. Lance rushed to all of his classes as fast as he could so Ryan couldn’t corner him, and when English with Keith rolled around, he ignored all of Keith’s attempts to talk or catch his eye. He even went so far as to ask his teacher if he could leave early so he didn’t have to talk to Keith after school, making up some excuse about having to take his niece to an appointment right after school.

It was nerve-wracking, but he’d managed to successfully avoid any other awkwardness after the whole thing with Allura, and when he got home, he sprinted right up to his room, not even noticing that Rosa was home early.

He was rushing back downstairs not even a minute later, his eyes wide with panic. “Have you seen the shoebox for the pair of dress shoes _Tía_ Carla got for me last Christmas?” he asked before Rosa could even get a word in.

She rolled her eyes and continued mixing together whatever she was making for dinner. It looked like chili, but Lance didn’t care enough to check. “What, no ‘hi, Mom, what’re you doing home so early’?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, maybe it’s because you took half a vacation day to spend more time with your family--”

“That’s great and all, Ma, but can you _please_ just tell me if you know where my shoebox is?” Lance interrupted.

Rosa glared at him, but sensing that he wasn’t going to calm down until he knew what happened, she sighed and relented. “I don’t know. Maybe it went out with the Goodwill boxes when we were cleaning out Veronica’s room?”

Lance paled as he easily imagined one of them looking in his closet for anything else to add to the boxes and spotting a seemingly empty shoebox they could recycle along the way.

“This can’t be happening,” he whispered to himself, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. In a way, this was worse. No amount of screaming or holy water or random Bible passages he’d been forced to memorize over the years would make this go away.

Rosa, all too used to her son’s dramatics, just sighed and pointed at the counter. “You’ve got some mail, by the way.”

He walked over and numbly stared down at the mail she’d indicated. There, written in special, blue ink, was the address for the summer camp he used to go to. He didn’t even have to read who it was for to know it was one of his letters. Stamped along the edge of the envelope were the words “RETURN TO SENDER”.

Lance exhaled shakily and grabbed the letter. His horrified expression quickly turned to an angry one. “I hate everyone!” he declared, stomping upstairs. “This is all your fault!”

Rachel, who was sitting at the kitchen island doing her Nursing assignments, gulped nervously and tried not to look too guilty.

“What’s _his_ problem?” Rosa asked no one in particular.

“Moon day?” Rachel offered, trying to feign nonchalance.

“First off, cis men like Lance don’t _get_ periods,” Rosa scoffed. “And secondly, periods have nothing to do with the moon. Shouldn’t you know this, being a nursing student?”

Rachel shrugged. “That’s why I’m in college, right? To learn?”

Rosa laughed and rolled her eyes, going back to making dinner.

 

_The letters are out._

Lance’s mind was racing, and he was threatening to wear a hole in his carpet with the amount of anxious pacing he was doing.

_The letters are out, there’s nothing you can do._

He sighed shakily and rubbed his temples. _Ah, think positively! We are **not** going to freak out about this! Freaking out won’t help anything. ___

__He paused long enough to pick up his blue lion plushie and hug it tight to his chest. It was a bit too big to cuddle while pacing, but he didn’t care._ _

___Silver linings, though! Jennie’s letter was addressed to the camp, so she never got it. And Allura was totally cool with the whole thing. I’d even go so far as to say we’re friends now! Making new friends is always a good thing!_ _ _

__“You should relax,” Ryan offered. He was sitting casually in the beanbag chair in the corner of Lance’s room, looking like he owned the place. Lance sat down on the bed to face him, pouting. “I know you love me.”_ _

__“ _Loved_ , past tense,” Lance corrected, scowling slightly. “You’re Veronica’s.”_ _

__Ryan’s smile faded, and suddenly he was sitting on Lance’s bed, leaning back against the headboard with an all-too-familiar letter in his hands. “‘Dear Ryan, I lie awake at night sometimes and imagine running my fingers through your hair’...” he read. “...‘feeling your strong arms around me’--”_ _

__“Shut up!” Lance growled, standing up and walking over to the window. Ryan was now standing beside the bed, watching him. “You’re not even _real_.”_ _

__“I’m more real to you than _he_ is,” Imaginary Ryan retorted as Lance watched Real Ryan walking up the driveway. Imaginary Ryan disappeared before Lance could retort, and someone rang the doorbell down below._ _

__“What’re you _doing_?” Nadia asked from his doorway._ _

__Lance jumped slightly and spun around. “N-nothing!” he stammered._ _

__She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but Rosa interrupted by shouting up the stairs. “Lance, Ryan is here to see you!”_ _

__Lance paled and quickly scrambled to heave open the window. “You never saw me!” he hissed to Nadia, barely remembering to grab his wallet and jacket on the way out._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually meant to post this chapter earlier but kept getting distracted. sorry! but i'm pretty sure it's the longest one yet, and the plot is finally introduced. so yay!!
> 
> as always, comments/reviews/kudos/etc. are always appreciated. enjoy!
> 
> (also, i know allura's not gay, but she'd be a damn good lesbian, you gotta admit.)


	4. The Art of the Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is apparently terrible at running. No matter how hard he tries, he can't get away from the letters. So, he strikes a deal.

Climbing out of a second-storey window was harder than movies made it out to be, and the bruises all over Lance’s side from falling onto his front lawn were proof of that. Even ten minutes later, after a panicked bike ride to _The Five Lion Cafe_ , Lance’s favorite haunt when he needed some pick-me-up food, he was _still_ wincing as he settled down at his usual spot at the bar.

His racing heart only began to calm down a few minutes later, when he was ripping open a straw and sipping on his usual meal: a blueberry milkshake and a small order of tater tots, no sauce needed. His swimming coach always gave him shit for eating so unhealthily, but Lance loved the _Five Lion_ ’s food too much to give it up. Besides, it wasn’t like he ate there _all the time_ ; just when he needed some good, comfort food to get his mind off of things. He agreed with Hunk - eating your problems away was so much easier than just facing them.

Of course, not even the _Five Lion_ ’s magical tater tots could keep Lance’s problems away for too long. It felt like he’d only just eaten his first tot when one of said problems was suddenly talking to him.

“Hey, McClain,” a smug-sounding voice cut in. Lance turned sharply and nearly choked on his milkshake as he took in the sight of Keith Kogane sitting casually just one stool away from him.

He coughed into his fist a few times and quickly turned back to stare blankly ahead, hoping to ignore Keith’s presence. Before Keith could try talking to him again, though, Lance’s now _least_ favorite waiter, Joan, drifted over and asked, “Oh, hello, Lance. Does your friend here want anything?”

“He’s not with me,” Lance answered quickly, but he could see Keith smiling out of the corner of his vision.

“I’d like a Cherry Coke, if you don’t mind,” Keith said, no doubt flashing Joan his knee-weakening, absurdly charming smile.

“No problem, young man,” Joan breathed, thoroughly charmed.

Lance sighed through his nose and closed his eyes. “What do you want, Kogane?” he gritted out. He tried to ignore the feeling of Keith slipping one stool closer, his elbow no doubt threatening to brush Lance’s.

“Just here to order a Cherry Coke,” Keith said, his voice annoyingly innocent. Lance glanced at him and yep, he was wearing that stupid(ly attractive) smirk. He looked more smug than a seagull that had just pulled off a successful Dorito heist on the beach, and seeing how Lance worked as a lifeguard most of his summers, he knew _exactly_ what that looked like.

Lance glared at him, and Keith relented, “Okay, not actually. I tried to catch you at home, but your sister - I think she said her name was Rachel? - said you weren’t home and that you’d probably be here instead.”

He sighed and shifted to face Lance, which Lance very much did not appreciate considering they were _already_ dangerously close. He tried to ignore how hot his face was and sipped on his milkshake to try and cool it down. Watching the milkshake slowly disappear from the cup was a hell of a lot easier than trying to meet Keith’s eyes.

“Look, I just want to be super clear, okay?” Keith sighed, and yep, there was the rejection. Lance’s face burned hotter, and he viciously fought the urge to run. “I’m... flattered, okay, I really am, but... Lotor and I _just_ broke up, okay? I don’t really want to--”

“Are you seriously trying to reject me right now?” Lance snapped, finally looking over. That proved to be a bad idea, since their faces were less than a half a foot apart. Lance’s annoyance was apparently a good enough distraction, though, because he managed to not get flustered.

Keith, fucking _bastard_ , wasn’t flustered either. His lips quirked into a bemused smile. “Uh, yeah? Apparently what I said the other day didn’t stick, so…” He shrugged, looking almost apologetic.

Lance snorted. “Keith Kogane, I am _not_ trying to date you.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing a word of what Lance was saying. “Then what was that the other day on the track?” he asked.

Before Lance could respond, Joan came back over with Keith’s Cherry Coke. He took it with a small smile and thanked her. She gave Lance a look that screamed “date him he’s a gentleman”. Lance pointedly ignored her.

He sighed sharply and ran a hand through his hair. His leg began to bounce like it did when he was nervous. Keith glanced at it, but he didn’t seem annoyed like most people were.

“Here’s the thing,” Lance started. “I don’t actually like you, dude. I know you don’t believe me because I--” He flushed and ducked his head. “-- _k-kissed you_ , b-but that was only so that someone _else_ wouldn’t think that I liked _him_!”

Keith still didn’t look convinced. “Okay, _who_ , then?”

“What?”

“ _Who_ were you trying to trick? Tell me who this mystery guy is, so I know you’re not just lying about liking me,” Keith demanded.

“No,” Lance said immediately, scowling.

Keith returned it. “Okay, then do you want me to tell Lotor that you wrote a love letter to me?”

Lance turned back to Keith, his face pale. “You wouldn’t,” he growled.

Keith shrugged. “You don’t know me well enough to say that,” he pointed out.

Lance tried to see if Keith was lying, but if he was, he was very good at it. After another second, he admitted defeat and turned back to his tots. He plucked one up and ate it moodily. “Fine,” he muttered, hiding his mouth with his hand like he always did when he ate in front of other people.

“What was that?” Keith asked, leaning forward slightly.

Lance swallowed and lightly shoved him back. “I said ‘ _fine_ ’!” he snapped. “It’s Ryan Kinkade.”

Keith blinked, his eyes going wide with surprise. “Doesn’t he _date_ your _sister_?”

“They broke up!” Lance shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And that’s _exactly_ why I want him to think I don’t like him anymore! Even if I did, I wouldn’t do that to Veronica.”

He sighed and hid his hands in his jacket sleeves, crossing his arms and staring moodily at the condensation on his milkshake glass. “But he somehow got sent my letter too, so now he thinks that I _just_ wrote it and still feel the same way about him. Which, I mean, I kind of do? But I don’t--”

Keith shook his head, holding up a hand. “Wait, hold on,” he interrupted. “You sent _more than one letter_? I’m not the _only_ guy who got one?”

Lance shook his head slowly, a bit confused.

Keith sighed, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Wow,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “You think you’re special, but then you find out he’s sent letters to _two_ guys.”

“I actually wrote a total of _five_ letters, so yeah, don’t go thinking you’re super special,” Lance grumbled, taking a long pull of his milkshake.

“ _Five_?” Keith asked, whipping his head back around.

“Yes,” Lance snapped, scowling. His face would get _stuck_ this red if he didn’t cool down soon.

Keith whistled long and low, looking almost _impressed_. “Damn, McClain, who knew you were such a player?”

Lance flipped him off, but Keith simply pushed his hand down and asked, “Who else did you write letters to?”

“If I tell you, will you leave me alone?” Lance growled.

Keith shrugged, smirking.

Lance groaned. “Allura de Altea.”

Keith blinked slowly. “You know she’s a lesbian, right?”

“Of course I knew!” Lance snapped. Keith simply smirked wider, quirking an eyebrow as he waited for Lance to tell him who else he’d written to.

He sighed. “Then there was a girl at a summer camp I used to go to and a boy who I did Model UN with in fifth grade. Now are we good here? Cause I gotta get going before my mom has my head for missing dinner.”

Keith watched as Lance stood, gulped down the rest of his milkshake, and picked up his little paper basket of tots as he grimaced at the brainfreeze he got. Keith chuckled quietly at the faces Lance made and slowly got up as well. Lance refused to think about how that warmed up his chest much too quickly.

“Yeah, we’re good, but is that bike out front yours?” Keith asked, gesturing lazily behind him with his thumb.

Lance flushed and nodded, looking away. Keith didn’t seem to want to tease him, though. “Okay, that’s what I thought,” he sighed, shoving his hand in his skin-tight black jeans and fishing out a ring of keys. “Here, I’ll drive you home. There’s no way I’m gonna let you ride a bike when it’s starting to get dark.”

Lance tried to protest, but Keith simply walked away like he hadn’t heard, somehow _knowing_ that Lance would follow. He even had the audacity to shoo Lance away when he tried to set the bike in the small backseat of Keith’s bright red, vintage convertible.

“Your car’s really cool,” Lance said, smiling as he clicked on his seatbelt.

Keith grinned, wider than Lance had ever seen, and fondly patted the steering wheel. “Red was a gift,” he murmured. “My... my _cousin_ got him for dirt cheap since Red was in such bad shape, but I fixed him up. Now he works beautifully.”

He smirked and turned the key, and Lance _squeaked_ as the engine suddenly roared to life. Hand over his heart, he glared at a laughing Keith. “Fuck you!” he hissed. “That was a dick move, Kogane!”

“Sorry, _McClain_ , but I couldn’t resist,” Keith replied, not sounding sorry at all.

Lance passed the time by fiddling with the car’s - _Red’s_ , Keith corrected - radio. Keith explained that he’d replaced the old radio since it didn’t work and he kind of liked having an AUX cord to play his music with and a satellite radio so he wouldn’t have to worry about driving out of range of his favorite stations. Lance snatched up the AUX cord with a evil chuckle and immediately started blasting “Run Away With Me” by Carly Rae Jepsen, ignoring Keith’s groans.

“Carly Rae Jepsen’s songs are memes for a reason,” Lance intoned, shameless as always. “It’s because they’re _good_.”

Keith rolled his eyes, smiling to himself, and kept driving.

They reached Lance’s house before the song was over. Still, Lance turned down the radio and turned in his seat to face Keith just as he was shifting Red into “park”. Keith turned to face him too, eyebrow raised expectantly.

Lance took a moment to speak, worrying his lower lip. “Thanks for the ride and for… for being so cool about…” He waved his hand awkwardly. “... _the kiss_. I didn’t mean to jump you, but I was kind of panicking and you were _right there_ and my dumb lizard brain thought it’d be a good idea--”

Keith cut him off with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, dude. Besides, could’ve been worse, right?”

Lance flushed and quickly looked away. Keith had parked Red right out front, and it was only a matter of time before Lance’s family got curious about the mysterious, bright red car loitering on the street right in front of their house.

Keith sighed quietly and asked, softer, “What’re you gonna do about Kinkade?”

Lance sighed and slumped, his good mood gone immediately. He looked down at his hands, twisting the hem of his shirt nervously. “Guess I’m gonna have to tell him the truth,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” Keith said, nodding. “But what exactly _is_ the truth? Do you like him, do you _not_ like him…?”

Lance finally met Keith’s gaze, glaring. “You know, for someone who barely knows me, you’re asking a _lot_ of personal questions.”

Keith raised his hands in mock surrender, scowling and glaring right back. “Okay, _sorry_ , but you kind of included me in this when you kissed me.”

Lance covered his too-warm face with his hands, groaning, “Can you _stop_ mentioning that? It’s embarrassing enough as is!”

Keith rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but Lance interrupted by unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. “Thanks for the ride, and really, don’t worry about me and Ryan.” He moved to pull his bike out of the backseat with a grunt.

Keith muttered for him to be careful, but Lance ignored him and plopped the bike down on the pavement, the bell jingling in protest. He almost looked like he was _pouting_ now. Lance gave him one last, pointed look. “Thanks again for the ride and good _bye_ , Keith.”

Keith sighed sharply and muttered, “Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

He was only halfway down the walkway up to his house when the door to Keith’s car suddenly opened, and Keith was lightly tugging on Lance’s bike to get him to stop. “Hey, wait, McClain!”

Lance turned, giving Keith an annoyed look. “What?”

“What if you _didn’t_ tell him?” Keith asked instead, looking almost frantic. His eyes were wider than their usual disinterested, half-lidded gaze, and his knuckles were white where they gripped the seat of the bike. Lance figured that this was the most frantic the famously-stoic Keith Kogane got.

Lance blinked slowly, not comprehending what Keith was saying. _“...What?”_ he asked again, this time less accusing and more genuinely confused.

“What if we let people think we were actually together?” Keith pressed. “Only for a little while, obviously, but I-I mean... Everyone _already_ thinks we’re a thing; that kiss is all they’re talking about.”

“Why would you want that?” Lance asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

Keith shrugged, finally taking his hands off of the bike and stuffing them in his pockets. He looked slightly left of Lance’s eyes and answered, his cheeks looking a bit pink, “Look, when Lotor heard you kissed me, he went _nuts_. If he thinks you and I are a thing, he’ll want to get back together.”

Lance gaped at him for a moment, then snapped, “Oh, what, so you’re just going to be _using_ me to get _Lotor_ back?”

“You used me first!” Keith shot back, glaring at Lance’s face. The pink on his cheeks was beginning to darken and spread, but Lance wrote it off as anger. “That kiss on the track? Harmless, yeah, but still technically done without my consent! If anyone’s using anybody as their pawn, _you_ did it first.”

Lance blanched, then quickly turned and started walking away again. Keith sounded amused when he called after him, “Look, you don’t have to answer immediately, okay? Just... think about it.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Lance scoffed, loud enough that he knew Keith could hear it. Instead of getting angry, though, Keith just laughed and started walking back to his car.

Lance didn’t turn back as he discarded the bike on the front porch and started digging around for his key, but Keith slowed and watched him for a second, smiling softly. Just as Lance slipped inside, someone cleared their throat nearby.

Keith looked to his right and saw none other than Ryan Kinkade standing there, his hand still on the garbage can he’d rolled out to the curb. “Hey,” Keith greeted cautiously.

Ryan regarded him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed together. “Hey,” he said back. “You’re Keith Kogane, right?”

Keith nodded. “That’s me. And you’re Kinkade.”

Ryan nodded, then glanced at the McClain house. He looked back, his expression sour. “How long you been hanging out with Lance?” he asked, and Keith began to feel a bit defensive.

“Not long,” he answered vaguely. “Just taking him home.” He smiled in mock-politeness and started his car with an obnoxious growl. Ryan started and quickly walked back into his house, his shoulders tense.

Keith laughed quietly to himself and drove off.

 

Lance sighed and brought his hands up to check his phone for the millionth time that night. Countless notifications from Ryan were flashing across the lock screen. He’d already tried calling five times and had sent no less than six texts with a variant of “hey, can we talk?” Lance had ignored them all, opting to just stare up at the ceiling as he laid on the floor.

“When are you going to stop ignoring me?” Fake Ryan asked from beside Lance. “There’s so much I want to talk to you about, music I want to share, tattoos I want to get with you…”

“Shut up,” Lance snapped, not even bothering to look at him. “You’re not real. And even if you were, this _cannot_ happen.”

“We’d be so great together,” Fake Ryan sighed dreamily, staring up at the ceiling with Lance.

“Oh my god, would you shut it?” a new voice piped up from Lance’s right. He turned his head quickly and saw Keith laying next to him, looking at him with a suave smirk. Lance’s face burned.

“Cool trick, right?” Fake Keith asked, jerking his chin back towards Fake Ryan. Lance looked, but he was gone.

Lance turned back, and Fake Keith gave Lance his usual half-lidded smirk, but turned up to twenty. “Wanna see me do it again?” he asked in a smooth purr.

Lance flushed darker, and he quickly sat up. Fake Keith disappeared, but Lance’s mind was still racing. Holy shit. This could _work_.

 

Monday morning passed without incident, but Lance cornered Keith as soon as he sat down for English. They still had a minute or so left before the bell rang, and everyone was still chatting loudly with their friends. All except Keith, who didn’t really _have_ any friends in that class.

“Hey,” Lance said, leaning against Keith’s desk in what he hoped was a casual way. His palms were sweating a bit, and he tried to subtly wipe them off on his sleeves as he crossed his arms.

Keith looked up slowly, making a show of trailing his eyes up Lance’s figure, a small smirk beginning to curl at his lips. Lance felt his ears beginning to burn, but he managed to keep up his cool and unbothered facade. “Hi,” Keith rumbled.

“Let’s do it,” Lance blurted before he could chicken out.

Keith smirked wider, looked around for a second, then suddenly grabbed Lance’s shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.

It only lasted a second, not nearly long enough for Lance to properly register how Keith’s warm, chapped lips felt against his own, but it was long enough for everyone in the class to go silent with shock. When Keith pulled away, Lance stood there dumbly for a second before murmuring a quick, “Find me after class,” and walking, dazed, back to his seat. The rest of the lesson passed without any more drama, but Lance could feel the other students staring at them as their teacher tried - and failed - to get them to read _Beowulf_.

The entire school knew before the final bell even rang, of course. Lance could see Casey Turner’s fingers flying underneath the desk, no doubt recreating the whole story (with a few details thrown in or omitted as necessary, of course) for anyone who followed her on Snapchat - so pretty much _everyone_. The very small minority of people who _didn’t_ follow Casey - including Lance because he didn’t usually care about Casey’s baseless gossip - would find out from their friends or random classmates, and already Lance could imagine how the GM between him, Hunk, and Pidge would look before the end of the day.

When the bell finally rung, Lance expected to be swarmed, but Keith was already grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the classroom, seemingly totally oblivious to all the gawking that followed them. He easily lead Lance through the crowd, his hand never leaving Lance’s even when they were outside and walking towards the small grove of trees near the football field where they could find shade and a nice, private picnic table to talk at.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Keith asked, finally letting go of Lance’s hand and sitting down. He pulled a red Powerade from out of his bag and cracked it open. Lance settled down right across from him and pulled out a notebook and pen.

“Yes,” Lance said briskly, trying to ignore how cold his hand felt without Keith’s warm, calloused one wrapped around it. The boy was a walking furnace, apparently. “We need to make a contract for this. It’s _imperative_ that we’re on the same page.”

Keith scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “A _contract_?” he asked, voice half incredulous, half teasing. “Wow, McClain, you certainly know how to spice up a relationship.”

“If you mean a _professional_ relationship,” he corrected stiffly, “then yes, adding a contract certainly helps.” He was already writing out the heading. “But seriously, this’ll help. We’ll know where we stand on certain issues. So, for example…” His cheeks began to burn, and he found a cool knot in the wood of the table to stare at instead of looking up at Keith. “I don’t want you kissing me like you did earlier.”

Keith blinked, borderline _gawking_ now. “Are you crazy?” he asked, sitting up straighter. “Who’s gonna believe we’re in a relationship if we’re not allowed to kiss?”

Lance blushed darker and glared at the table. “Look, _you_ might be the James Dean of this sort of thing, but this is my first time even _pretending_ to be in a relationship, let alone actually _be_ in one.”

“You have the references of a 90-year-old spinster,” Keith deadpanned. Lance turned his glare on him, and Keith relented with a sigh. “Okay, well, what does that matter? It’s not like we’re going to have sex or anything. It’s just kissing.”

“It _matters_ because if--” Keith raised an eyebrow, and Lance flushed.

 _“--when--”_ Keith’s eyebrow only raised further.

“Whatever, I just want it to _mean_ something!” Lance shouted. “If I’m going around _kissing_ you all the time, how would that feel for whoever I end up with? This whole thing is messed up enough as is, I don’t want to make it even _more_ messed up by admitting that my first hundred or so kisses were with a fake boyfriend!”

“Do I have to remind you again that _you_ were the one who kissed _me_ first?” Keith asked, unimpressed. “Like, that’s sweet and everything, Lance, but--”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Lance interrupted.

They were quiet for a moment before Keith sighed sharply. “Okay,” he muttered. “If you insist on no kissing--” Lance glared in a silent warning, and Keith lifted his hands in surrender. “--which is _fine_. Except we need to find out something _else_ to do. No one’s going to believe that we’re in a relationship if we never kiss.”

“Fair point,” Lance admitted reluctantly. “How about a compromise?” Keith tilted his head, showing that he was all ears. “...You can put your hand in my back pocket.”

Keith blinked slowly. “Is that a huge relationship milestone? Cause I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”

Lance gasped, incredulous. “It’s from _Sixteen Candles_!”

Keith continued to look lost. “It’s the opening image?” Lance prompted. Keith’s expression remained unchanged. “Ugh, whatever. It’s a couple’s thing, okay?”

“Did your parents do it in the 70’s?” Keith asked, looking totally unswayed.

“ _Sixteen Candles_ was the _80’s_ , actually,” Lance sniffed. “John Hughes wasn’t famous in the 70’s.”

Keith had the audacity to ask, “Who?”

Lance gasped, putting a hand to his heart. “You don’t know who _John Hughes_ is?!” he shouted.

Keith winced at his volume but shook his head. “No, I don’t. Should I?”

“Yes!” Lance answered immediately. “John Hughes was one of the most successful teenage comedy and romance directors/writers of the 80’s! Hell, I’d say he’s _still_ one of the best!”

“What movies did he direct?” Keith asked. “Cause if he’s _that_ successful, maybe I’ve watched one.”

“Well, Sixteen Candles for one,” Lance began. “Then there’s _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ , _Pretty in Pink_ , _Breakfast Club_ , _Weird Science_ , _Home Alone_... He was also the writer and executive producer of that awful _101 Dalmatians_ live-action remake in 1996, but we don’t talk about that except to praise Glenn Close for her amazing performance as Cruella.”

Keith sighed quietly and shrugged. “I’ve heard of a lot of those, but I’ve never actually _seen_ any of them.”

Lance looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “How the hell have you not seen _Breakfast Club_? Or, hell, _Home Alone_! It’s a staple Christmas movie!”

Another shrug. “Christmas isn’t that big of a deal at my house. We’re not religious.”

“Plenty of non-religious people celebrate Christmas,” Lance scoffed. “That’s no excuse.”

“I don’t know, my family’s just not big on holidays!” Keith snapped, sounding oddly defensive.

Lance frowned. “Jeez, man, you didn’t have to get so defensive. I was just teasing.”

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Just... whatever, sorry. Can we get this over with?”

Lance studied him for a moment, then turned back to the contract. “Okay, well, I’m adding two new rules,” he announced, already beginning to write. “One, that you have to watch _Sixteen Candles_ with me because it’s a classic and I need you to understand John Hughes’s cultural influence” - Keith huffed, and Lance decided to think of it as a particularly breathy laugh - “and two, we _cannot_ tell _anyone_ the truth. It’d be too humiliating for the both of us.”

Keith opened his eyes just to roll them. “Duh. First rule of Fight Club.”

“Fight Club?” Lance parroted, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen _Fight Club_.” Now Keith was the one looking incredulous.

Lance smirked slightly and shook his head. “Never.”

“Okay, well, if you’re making me sit through an 80’s rom-com with you, then _you_ are watching _Fight Club_ with me,” Keith said, tapping the notebook. “Write it down: _Ten Candles_ \--”

“It’s sixteen!”

“-- _However Many Candles_ and _Fight Club_ double feature.”

Lance shook his head in disbelief but wrote it down. “Anything else?” he asked absently.

Keith fell silent, and Lance glanced up to see Keith biting his lip and staring at the table, seemingly debating something with himself. “I could... write you notes,” he offered, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

Lance ducked a bit closer, trying to catch his eye. Keith looked up and didn’t look away. “Notes?”

Keith nodded stiffly. “Notes,” he affirmed. “Lotor was always on my ass about writing him notes every day, but I never did. He’d get _pissed_ if I started writing them for you.”

“How romantic,” Lance said sarcastically, but he was already writing it down.

“Also, you have to come to all of my games and meets,” Keith added. “Not just football; I know you already go to that because of marching band. But I do fencing and kickboxing outside of school, and I want you to go to my tournaments.”

“You do fencing and kickboxing?” Lance asked. “I... I didn’t know that.”

Keith smirked slightly. “There’s a _lot_ that you don’t know about me. Like the fact that I get invited to a lot of parties. You have to come to those too.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Ugh, fine, but _you_ have to pick up my niece and I and drive us to school every morning.”

“Okay,” Keith agreed immediately, suddenly grabbing the contract and Lance’s pen. He began to write something. “You’re coming on the ski trip.”

Lance froze. Voltron High’s ski trip was _notorious_. More people lost their virginities on that trip than Prom or Senior Week _combined_. He’d never been, obviously, but if he _did_ actually end up going, he’d have to be careful. Rosa would _kill him_ if he lost his virginity before tying the knot. Perks of being from an extremely Catholic family, even if it was a lot more liberal than most.

“That’s, like, three months away, though,” Lance said instead. “Do you really think we’re gonna still be doing this by then?”

“Let’s call it a contingency,” Keith said, not looking up from where he was scrawling - in giant, upper case letters - ‘SKI TRIP’ at the bottom of the contract. “No one in their right mind would let their boyfriend go on that trip by themselves. If you didn’t go, everyone would know we aren’t being serious right away. So if we’re still doing this by then…” Keith finally looked up. “You’re coming on that trip with me.”

Lance, certain that this would all be just an awkwardly-funny story by then, smiled and said, “Okay.”

He read through the contract one last time before signing, making sure that they were agreed on everything on there. “‘Condition one: _no kissing_ , but Keith is allowed to put his hand in Lance’s back pocket. Two: _Sixteen Candles / Fight Club_ double feature.’ Because Keith is a heathen.” Keith swatted at him, but Lance simply laughed and kept reading. “‘Condition three: _no snitching_. Four: Keith will write Lance a note every day. Five: Lance must go to all of Keith’s tournaments and any parties he’s invited to.’ And finally, as you so eloquently wrote it, ‘SKI TRIP’.”

Keith nodded. “Sounds good to me.” He held out his hand for the pen and signed his name on the line Lance had made for them. Lance did the same and stuck out his hand.

Keith looked at it for a second before laughing and shaking it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo okay that was 20 pages on my google docs, so hopefully that's enough to please you guys while i try to finish another chapter. i'm a bit busy this coming weekend, but hopefully i'll find the time (and inspiration) to finish chapter seven and maybe post chapter five. ;)
> 
> if you like the fic so far, maybe give it some kudos. or comments. comments are nice too. :)


	5. A New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance still isn't entirely adjusted to having a fake boyfriend. It doesn't help that Keith wants to drag him to a party.

Wednesday started out pretty normal for Lance. He’d almost totally forgotten about his agreement with Keith until he was halfway through packing up his backpack and his phone buzzed. Keith’s newly-created contact flashed on screen with the text “I’m waiting out front for you and your niece. Be ready soon.” Lance rolled his eyes at the bluntness but picked up his pace.

“Come on, Nadia, we’re going to be late,” Lance called over his shoulder, lacing up his converse.

Nadia appeared a second later, holding two familiar packages. “Calm down, I was just getting our crackers,” she muttered. She shoved one at Lance and began fiddling with her own shoes, leaving Lance to open the door and walk out. She followed a second later, complaining, “Do we _have_ to take the bus? Why can’t you just woman up and drive us?”

“Actually,” Lance said, pulling the door shut behind them and locking it, “we’re not _taking_ the bus.”

Keith chose that moment to start Red, making Nadia jump and spin around to face the mysterious, red convertible parked right in front of their house. Keith smirked at her and waved politely from inside.

She grinned. “Oh, _hell_ yes!” she squealed, rushing forward.

Lance followed quickly, knowing that she might claim shotgun if he was too slow. With Keith’s help, they pushed the front seat down so she could climb into the back, and Lance was about to slide in after her when Keith cleared his throat. Flushing, Lance pushed the front seat back up and climbed in, trying to ignore Keith’s quiet laugh.

Keith looked back, confused, when Nadia suddenly opened her breakfast. “Hey, Little McClain, what’s that?”

“It’s a homemade breakfast cracker from a bakery across town,” Nadia said, narrowing her eyes coldly. “And my _name_ , thank you for asking, is _Nadia_.”

Keith laughed softly, completely unbothered by Nadia’s coldness. “Nice to meet you, Nadia. I’m Keith.”

“I know.”

Keith leaned over to Lance and whispered loudly, “I like her.”

“How do you know Lance again?” Nadia asked, ignoring Keith’s whisper.

“Seatbelt, Nadia,” Lance reminded absently, putting on his own and opening his packet of crackers.

“I guess I’m his boyfriend,” Keith replied casually.

Lance almost choked on his food, his eyes going wide. He froze as he felt Nadia’s gaze on him, but Keith didn’t give her time to tease her uncle. “Can I try a bit of that?” he asked, turning back again.

Nadia broke off a small piece and handed it to him, still in shock. He chewed on it slowly, his eyes going wide with surprise. “That’s good,” he said once he swallowed. He looked back at Nadia. “Hey, what do I have to do to get you to bring me one of these tomorrow?”

Nadia considered him for a moment. “Are you going to be driving us tomorrow?” she asked.

He nodded. “Of course.”

She beamed, her icy demeanor suddenly forgotten. “Okay! I’ll bring you one tomorrow.”

Keith leaned over to Lance and whispered, smirking, “Progress!”

 

The morning passed pretty quickly, though Lance _still_ wasn’t used to the staring and whispers. Once he got to the lunch room, though, it was somehow _worse_. Keith had met him outside of the band room, fresh out of his drawing class, and they’d walked to the cafeteria together, Keith’s hand stuck in Lance’s back pocket just like they’d agreed to.

Lance flushed as he felt their stares digging into his skin and wrapped his arms around himself a bit tighter. Keith, as always, seemed completely impervious to all the staring and used Lance’s back pocket to spin him around until they were bumping chests. From this close, Lance had to tilt his head back slightly to meet Keith’s eyes, his face flushed dark red at their proximity.

Keith just smirked and reached into his own back pocket, holding up a folded piece of lined paper. In big, bright red ink, it read ‘Lance ♥’. “ _This_ is for you,” he murmured.

Lance took the paper hesitantly and felt his blush only get worse when Keith suddenly leaned closer and breathed, “Good job.” His breath washed white-hot over Lance’s ear, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. Keith pulled back and began to walk away, holding onto Lance’s hand for a moment. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Lance nodded and let his hand fall back to his side, watching Keith walk away for a moment. He turned on sharply on his heel and began to walk away himself, his hands firmly gripping the straps of his backpack and eyes set on the ground in front of him, practically unseeing. It felt more than a little weird to suddenly be so _visible_ and congratulated for accepting a note and having an ass pocket for someone to stick their hand in, but that’s apparently where Lance’s life had led him.

Before he could even leave the cafeteria, someone was suddenly latching onto his arm and pulling him into a nearby classroom. It was empty, thank god, but Pidge was now standing in front of him, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “Since when have you had a boner for Keith Kogane?” she asked, getting right to the heart of it.

Lance pressed a hand to his burning face and willed it to calm down. “I’m just as shocked as you are,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

Pidge didn’t look like she believed him for one second, but she let the subject drop. “Did Veronica freak?” she asked instead.

“She... doesn’t know yet,” Lance admitted in a whisper.

 

Study hall was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it was only 5:30 and Lance was already done with all his homework, but a curse because Lance was _already done with his homework_ and therefore had no excuse to put off calling Veronica again that night.

He was sitting on his bed in an apron, trying to come up with a way to break the news to Veronica, but even after almost ten minutes of practicing, he still had nothing. If he admitted that he was fake-dating Keith, not only would he be breaking one of the conditions of his contract, but he’d also have to explain _why_ he was doing it in the first place. If he tried to lie, Veronica would see right through it and wouldn’t let it go until he told her the truth, which was _definitely_ not something he wanted to tell her. And if he tried to lie and say that their relationship was _real_ , it would go pretty much the same way: Veronica would see through whatever story he was trying to make up and hate him by the end of the night because Lance would have cracked and told her that the only reason he was doing this was because he didn’t want Ryan, Veronica’s _ex-boyfriend_ , to think that he liked him.

Lance groaned and was just about to close out of Skype entirely when his laptop suddenly started chiming with an incoming call. He bit his lip and hesitantly accepted it, and Veronica smiled at him, her face made grainy by the crappy video quality.

“Hey, little bro!” she said cheerfully. “Feels like we haven’t talked in forever, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed with a nervous chuckle. “Crazy how busy I’d be, huh?”

“That’s what you get for taking two APs _and_ two Honors classes,” Veronica snickered, thoroughly unsympathetic. “But anyways, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, just making cupcakes for Sylvio’s bake sale tomorrow,” Lance said with a shrug. It technically wasn’t a lie; he really _was_ going to be doing that tonight. Keith wasn’t going to be involved in his plans at all until tomorrow morning when he came to pick up Lance and Nadia.

“Cupcakes?” Veronica asked, raising an eyebrow. “Hell no, Lance, it’s _so_ much easier to do brownies.”

Lance felt himself get slightly defensive. “I already bought all the ingredients for _cupcakes_ , though, and it’s not like you’re actually _here_ , so…”

Veronica blinked, hurt and surprise battling for dominance in her expression. “I… Okay, do cupcakes then. No need to be so nasty about it.”

Lance bit his lip to keep himself from apologizing. Veronica quickly tried to change the subject, but she wasn’t smooth at all when she asked, “So, have you seen Ryan around at all?”

“No!” he blurted, frantic. “Why would I be seeing _Ryan_?”

Veronica narrowed her eyes at him, and Lance could tell she was already beginning to catch on. He felt his palms begin to get sweaty. “He’s our neighbor, Lance. You probably see him every day at school. Is everything okay with you? You look kind of pale and anxious.”

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine I’m just… just _really excited_ to get to these cupcakes, you know?” Lance said quickly. “In fact, if I want to get them done in time, I’ll have to get them started now. Bye, Veronica!”

Veronica’s eyes widened. “W-wait, Lance--!”

He hung up quickly and snapped his laptop shut. He breathed a sigh of relief and went downstairs to get the cupcakes started. Might as well do what he said he was going to do, right?

Just as he was beginning to measure out the flour, someone knocked on the door. Sighing, he set down the measuring cup and walked into the foyer, opening up the door without remembering to check the window. He wrinkled his nose slightly when he saw who it was. “Hey.”

“Good to see you too,” Keith replied blandly, raising an eyebrow. He slowly scanned Lance up and down, his eyes catching on Lance’s flour-covered apron. “Are you supposed to be the Pillsbury Doughboy or something?”

Lance’s expression soured. “ _No_ , I’m making cupcakes for my nephew Sylvio’s bake sale.”

Keith hummed, then asked, “Can I come in?”

Lance sighed and turned back around, leaving the door open for Keith to walk through. “Sure, make yourself at home.”

He followed Lance back into the kitchen, looking around in mild interest as he said, “You know, it’s easier for you to make something you can cut into squares like brownies.”

Lance felt his temper flare slightly. “I already bought the stuff for _cupcakes_ , I am _not_ making brownies!” he snapped, snatching up the measuring cup and sneezing as a cloud of flour floated up into his face.

Keith’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Sorry, just trying to make a suggestion,” he said lightly. “My mom used to do it all the time when she would make stuff for our bake sales.”

Lance scowled and carefully poured the remaining flour into a mixing bowl. “What’re you doing here, Kogane?” he asked coldly as he reached for an egg.

“Did you not read my note on Tuesday?” he asked, looking a bit miffed. Lance shook his head, and he only looked more irritated. “I’m taking you to Greg Salopek’s party.”

“Salopek as in the _quarterback_ Salopek?” Lance asked, wrinkling his nose. “Hell no. I do _not_ go to parties, let alone ones hosted by _football players_.”

“What do you have against football players?” Keith asked, throwing his hands up.

“Lots of things, but the long story short is that no thanks, I’m not going.”

“You _have_ to, it was in the contract,” Keith growled. “Also, _Lotor_ is going to be there. He’s going to know something’s up the _instant_ I show up if you don’t come with me.”

Lance paused, trying to come up with a retort, but Keith was right. Parties _were_ in the contract, and, like it or not, Lance had to keep his word. “Okay, well, I get _that_ , but I literally _cannot go_ ,” he stressed. “I have to make these cupcakes, remember?”

“A deal’s a deal--!” Keith started to shout, but Edward suddenly appeared.

“Leandro? Who’s this? And what can’t you do?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

Lance flushed and gritted, “Keith, meet my grandfather, Edward. _Abuelo_ , this is Keith Kogane.”

Edward grinned and walked closer, holding out his hand for a handshake. Keith looked a little put out, but he quickly shook it. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said, smiling politely.

Edward chuckled and let go of Keith’s hand after a moment. “Ah, no need to be so polite, young man. You’re my grandson’s _novio_ , and any _novio_ or _novia_ of Lance’s is family too.”

Keith laughed, a bit stunned at the unquestioningly warm reception, but he quickly recovered and said, “I’m here to take Lance to a party my friend is having. The parents _will_ be home, and there won’t be any alcohol or drugs or anything. I’ll have him home by ten. Is it alright if we go?”

Edward grinned wider and nodded. “ _Sí, sí,_ of course you may go! _Él es tan educado!”_

“It doesn’t matter if he’s polite, _Abuelo_ , I have to make Sylvio’s cupcakes, _remember_?” Lance interrupted, glaring pointedly at Edward.

Edward was unaffected. “ _Disparates,_ Leandro! Rachel, Nadia, and I will make the cupcakes. You go have fun with your boyfriend. Now, get changed.” He began to push a protesting Lance out of the kitchen, his frame oddly strong despite his old age. “You look like a crazy man!”

Lance groaned loudly and made a show of stomping up the stairs and slamming his door shut. Keith flinched slightly, but Edward was already turning to wash his hands in the sink. “If you touch him, I will make your death look like an accident,” he said casually. “I used to be a US Marine. I might be old, but I still remember my training.”

Keith gulped and nodded. “O-of course, sir, I would never hurt your grandson.”

“Hmm, I know, but an old man worries, sí? Besides, it’s fun to tease you,” he chuckled, good-naturedly. He patted Keith’s back as he walked by, but Keith was still praying for Lance to hurry up.

 

All the way to the party, Lance was a nervous mess. He protested every moment he was being shoved out the door by Rachel - Keith pretended that he hadn’t seen her oogling his ass the moment he turned around after introducing himself - and bounced his leg and bit his nails as they made their way to the party.

“Dude, it’s not a death sentence,” Keith said for what felt like the millionth time. They were getting close to Greg’s house, but Lance _still_ hadn’t calmed down. If anything, he just got _worse_.

“I don’t know _anyone_ there, Keith!” Lance whispered, finally letting his fingers fall out of his mouth. The blue nail polish he’d put on only a few days ago was already chipped and cracked beyond repair. He spat out a piece of it into his hand and flicked it into Keith’s garbage can. Keith made a face but didn’t comment.

“So introduce yourself!” Keith said, feeling his patience begin to wane. “You’re amazing with new people, Lance. Just smile at them, and they’ll be falling over themselves to hang out with you.”

Lance blushed and swatted Keith’s arm. “Stop teasing me,” he grumbled.

“I’m not,” Keith said. They stopped at a red light, and Keith turned in his seat to look at Lance. His expression was dead serious, and Lance felt his face heat up more. “You’re the most charming person I’ve ever met, Lance. If anyone could make friends with everyone at that party, it’s you.”

Lance frowned and looked away. “Light’s green,” he muttered after a moment instead of replying.

Keith casually flipped off the people honking behind him and eased them through the left-hand turn. Lance sighed, and he glanced over at him briefly before setting his eyes back on the road.

“...What if they hate me?” Lance asked after another minute of tense silence. Smooth jazz played over the radio, but unlike every time before, Lance hadn’t made a grab for the AUX cord or changed the channel, all the while teasing Keith for his “80-year-old man” taste in music.

“Then they’re heartless bastards,” Keith replied matter-of-factly. Lance barked out a shocked laugh, and Keith smiled slightly. “It’s true. They’d _have_ to be if they weren’t completely charmed by you.”

Lance bit his lip and turned away, but Keith caught the soft smile on his face and felt his chest warm. A similar smile curled at his lips, but unlike Lance, he made no move to hide it.

Lance’s confidence seemed to leave him as soon as they were walking up the steps of the party, however. “Keith, we should go, I don’t think I should be here, I mean, I don’t even _know_ most of these people!” he protested hesitating at the bottom of the steps.

Keith turned and walked back down, gently cupping Lance’s face in his hands. “You’ll be fine, Lance,” he whispered. “I’ll stick by your side the whole night, okay? And it’s already 7:30, we’re only gonna be here for a few hours anyways.”

Lance looked down, his eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones and soft cheeks heating up under Keith’s palm. Keith stayed staring at him until he murmured a barely-audible “Okay.”

He smiled and let go of Lance’s face, taking his hand and leading him the rest of the way up the stairs and through the front door.

Lance gaped at the huge foyer and felt his free hand grab for his other wrist, Keith looking down to see what he was looking for.

“Nice bracelet,” Keith said, lifting their hands and tilting his head this way and that to see it better. “What’s it made out of?”

“Seaglass,” Lance said, tearing his eyes away from the overwhelmingly huge house and following Keith’s gaze. “It’s handmade with glass from Varadero Beach in Cuba. My grandmother made it just before we moved here and gave it to me.”

Keith’s expression softened, and he grinned at Lance. “That’s awesome,” he said.

Lance bit his lip and looked around for other people. All of the guests were in the other rooms, though, partying their asses off to the loud dubstep seeping through the walls and floor. “Um... here,” he muttered, suddenly taking his hand from Keith’s grasp and unclasping the bracelet. “Wear it.”

“What? Why?” Keith asked, taking the bracelet out of instinct as Lance shoved it towards him and avoided his gaze.

“It means a lot to me,” Lance murmured. “Lotor knows that. If you have it, he’ll know that I... I trust you a lot.”

Keith tried giving it back. “Lance, I can’t take this,” he insisted. “If it’s seriously that important to you, I don’t want to take it from you.”

Lance folded Keith’s hand over the bracelet and said, firmly, “ _Take it._ It’ll do the trick, I promise. You can just give it back once we’re done.”

Keith hesitantly secured the bracelet around his wrist and bit back the question burning in his throat. _With the party or with pretending?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so first off! i know it's been a while since i've posted a new chapter, and i'm really sorry about that. i meant to post this after writing another chapter so i'm at least two chapters ahead at any given time, but it's been a crazy two weeks. last weekend i was stuck without my computer and my phone crashes every time i try opening this (it is wayyyy too long and it's only about seven chapters rn ^^" ) and then this past weekend was obviously thanksgiving, so while i did get to write another chapter, i wasn't able to post it until now. so sorry for the long wait, but hopefully i'll be good until christmas/new years.
> 
> also sorry if there's any weird things going on with the timeline. i've literally created a calendar and everything to try and keep it set straight, but i'm doing all of the editing by myself. as such, if you spot any mistakes or anything, let me know!
> 
> as always, comments are much appreciated!! :DD


	6. New Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few more shenanigans, Lance finally makes it into the party. He drinks beer for the first time and realizes that he's a bit of a lightweight.

They only managed a few more steps before Keith seemed to remember something and pulled Lance right back towards him. “Oh my god, what is it now?” Lance demanded, getting seriously impatient.

“We need to take pictures,” Keith said, already taking out his phone. Lance’s heart panged in sympathy for the old, scratched Android with a cracked screen and a plain, red case. His iPhone 6, despite being a hand-me-down, was at least in much better shape and had an ocean-themed case. He barely had it out for a second before Keith was snatching it.

He shuffled next to Lance and opened up the front-facing camera. Before Lance could even get ready, Keith’s lips were on his cheeks and the screen flashed briefly to show that the picture had been taken. Keith pulled up the preview and presented the photo to Lance with a smirk. “See?” he asked. “It’s perfect. Now make it your background.”

Lance took his phone back, still blushing and scowling down at the photo. “I look like a dumbass,” he grumbled, but he was already pulling up the options menu.

“No, you look _cute_ ,” Keith corrected immediately. “Send that to me when you get the chance. I want to keep it.”

Lance rolled his eyes but sent the photo to Keith. A second later, his phone buzzed, and Keith saved the photo to his pictures. Lance sighed and put his phone away, looking around. He was feeling a lot less nervous now that Keith had distracted him, but the sound of a camera shutter clicking had him tensing right back up and whipping around to face the source.

Keith smiled and held out his phone so Lance could see what was on it. “A Lance in his natural habitat.” The photo was, in Lance’s opinion, awful. Keith wasn’t a bad photographer or anything, but the photo was _just_ of Lance’s profile, his eyes wide as he stared up at the huge chandelier and lips slightly parted.

Lance groaned and hid his face. “I look stupid,” he grumbled.

“Stop saying that about yourself,” Keith said firmly. “You couldn’t look stupid or unattractive if you tried.”

Lance flushed and looked up, but Keith simply grabbed his hand and began to tug him towards the music. “Now come on.”

Lance curled into himself slightly as they made their way through the crowd, people staring and smiling and greeting Keith all along the way. He nodded back, but he didn’t say anything until he reached their host, Greg Salopek, playing beer pong.

Greg easily sunk another ball into a cup, and the people around him cheered. Even Keith cracked a small grin and slapped Greg on the shoulder. “Nice shot, man,” he complimented.

“I never miss,” Greg replied smugly. “What do I tell you? I--”

“Never miss, yeah,” Keith interrupted, rolling his eyes and smiling. He looked back at Lance and leaned closer to him to be heard over the music. “I’m gonna go get you a drink, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Lance felt his stomach turn to lead, but Keith just smiled and walked away. _What happened to not leaving me?_ Lance thought to himself grumpily.

“Hey, Lance!” someone called. He turned and spotted a girl - wasn’t her name Rhiannon or something? - waving to him from the couches. Lotor was sitting next to her, but he was sipping something from a red Solo cup and pointedly not looking over. “Come sit with us!”

Lance swallowed and walked over stiffly, wanting nothing more than to sprint away but unable to think of a better, more subtle way out. He sat down on the empty couch perpendicular to the one Lotor and Rhiannon were sitting on and smiled at them, his posture ramrod straight like Mr Coran had just yelled at him to stop slouching in Band.

“So, what’s up with you and Kogane?” Rhiannon asked, leaning forward and grinning. She was really pretty, but Lance didn’t like the glint in her eyes.

“Oh, be nice to him,” Lotor suddenly spoke up, grinning wickedly. “He’s _shy_ , remember?”

Lance somehow managed to maintain his smile, but Lotor and Rhiannon’s laughter still hurt like hell. “What do you wanna know?” he asked politely, trying to ignore their laughter.

“Uh, _everything_?” Rhiannon chuckled. Lotor leaned back, trying to look uninterested, but Lance could tell by his tense shoulders that he was listening to every word. “When? How? How far? You guys do HJ, BJ, FF, A, what?”

Lance blinked slowly. “I’m sorry, _what_ are we talking about again?”

“Forget it, Rhi,” Lotor sighed, smiling. “They obviously haven’t done anything. You’re just _scaring_ the poor boy, and we don’t want _that_ , do we?”

“Oh? And how would _you_ know?” Lance snapped before he could stop himself.

Lotor looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Um, because I’ve been dating him since eighth grade? I know what he’s like, Lance. You’ve only been dating him, what, a week?”

Lance huffed and rolled his eyes, looking away. Lotor stood. “I’m going to get a refill,” he announced. He stopped in front of Lance, looking down at him distastefully. “Can I get you anything? A juice box or chocolate milk, maybe?”

“Thank you so much for the offer, Lotor, but Keith is already getting me something,” Lance gritted, forcing a grin. It looked more like a snarl.

“Hey, what’s up, babe?” Keith suddenly asked from behind. Lotor’s eyes widened, and he quickly pivoted and walked away. Lance couldn’t help but smirk as Rhiannon scrambled to follow and Keith easily vaulted over the back of the couch, two Solo cups in his hands: one red, and one blue.

Lance instinctively reached for the blue one, Keith too busy staring after Lotor to notice what he was doing. As soon as he took his first sip, though, he was gagging and resisting the urge to spit it back up. He swallowed with a grimace and croaked, “Why the hell is beer so vinegary?”

Keith looked down, startled, and quickly switched their cups. “It’s not. Kombucha is, though. I’m driving, remember?” He took a long sip, and Lance made a face. How could he stand to drink that stuff?

“You drink kombucha?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Keith nodded. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be good for your digestion and stuff.” He shrugged and took a slightly smaller sip. “Shiro got me hooked on it.”

Lance, who’d been about to take his first sip of beer, choked. “ _Shiro_?” he asked quickly. “As in _Takashi Shirogane_? As in the youngest astronaut _ever_ Takashi Shirogane?”

Keith nodded, looking tired suddenly. “Yep. That’s him. He’s my cousin.”

Lance stared for a moment, then shook his head in disbelief. “How the hell did I not know that?”

Keith shrugged, his expression guarded. “Never told anyone,” he murmured into his cup. “Didn’t seem relevant.”

Lance bit his lip to keep from asking a million more questions. Keith was obviously very uncomfortable with the sudden attention, and Lance didn’t want to make their relationship even more awkward and strained than it already was.

_At least you don’t have to worry about doing this for very long,_ Lance told himself. _What’s Keith and Lotor’s record for break-ups? A week? They’ll be back together before the end of the night, and this’ll all be put behind me._

He took a sip of his drink and immediately pulled a face. He managed to swallow it, but Keith had caught his expression and started laughing anyways. “Not your favorite?” he asked between chuckles.

Lance shook his head. “Definitely not,” he said. “I mean, it’s not the _worst_ thing in the world, but I didn’t expect it to taste like _actual_ wheat.”

“That’s what it’s made out of, though!”

“Yeah, well, things can be processed so that they don’t even taste like what they’re supposed to anymore. Just look at grape flavoring. It doesn’t taste anywhere _close_ to grapes. It just tastes like a mistake.”

Keith shook his head, his laughter slowly dying down. “Well, do you think you could finish that? Or do you want me to get you another drink? They’ve got some kind of punch, but I don’t know what other shit they mixed in it, and I don’t want to bring you home absolutely plastered on mysterious alcohol.”

Lance shook his head and took another small sip. This time, he was expecting the taste and only grimaced a little. “Nah, I’m good. Rather not risk it, honestly.”

Keith nodded. “That’s fair.” They sat in silence for a moment before Keith seemed to spot something and nudged Lance’s arm to get him to look up. “Hey, they have _Mario Kart_ set up over there. Wanna play?”

Lance’s competitive side immediately perked up, and he smirked devilishly. “Only if you’re not afraid to lose.”

Keith smirked right back, and Lance could tell right away that they were both stubborn winners. This would be interesting. “Only if you’re ready to eat your words.”

“It is so on!” Lance crowed, springing up. Keith laughed brightly and followed quickly. “I call Daisy!”

 

An hour, two more cups of beer, and an impromptu Mario Kart tournament later, and Lance was very obviously drunk. Keith had only wanted to get him pleasantly buzzed, hopefully calming him down a little bit and showing him that it was okay to cut loose when Keith was there to take care of him, but he obviously hadn’t accounted for Lance being a total lightweight.

Still, Keith apparently wasn’t worried enough to pull Lance away from his newfound friends. In fact, he’d slipped away a minute ago, leaving Lance all alone on the couch. He just finished crushing some poor loser on Rainbow Road before he suddenly got thirsty and stood up. Laughing away all the other partygoers’ protests, he awkwardly shoved his way through the living room crowd and into the much quieter kitchen. Remembering Keith’s words about being wary of the punch, he decided to just grab a Solo cup full of water instead. Beer wasn’t worth the taste now that he wasn’t being subtly pressured into drink it by his peers.

“Oh, hello, Lance!”

Lance looked up at the sound of his name, immediately grinning when he recognized Allura. She was wearing a pastel pink sundress with a modest hemline and floral patterns decorating the skirt. It looked really pretty.

“Oh, why, thank you!” she giggled, smiling wider. “I think your outfit is particularly amazing as well.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but thanks!” Lance laughed. “I just kind of threw it on, not gonna lie. I wasn’t even really planning on going to a party tonight, let alone one like _this_.”

Allura nodded sympathetically and filled her own cup with tap water. “Yeah, the parties thrown by football players usually aren’t exactly... legal. The amount of underage drinking and sex is off the charts in places like this.”

Lance nodded and took a sip of his water. “I’m trying to be careful, though. Keith gave me some ground rules, like I wasn’t allowed to drink anything I hadn’t seen being poured and I shouldn’t drink the punch. He says it’s worse than rat poison.”

They shared a quick laugh, but when Lance looked back at Allura, she was smirking mischievously. He resisted the urge to gulp. “So,” she said. He waited for something else to follow, but she left the word lingering, incomplete, in the air.

“So… what?” Lance asked after an awkward moment.

Allura groaned and lightly punched Lance’s arm. He _assumed_ it was supposed to be light, anyways. It hurt a lot more than she probably meant it to. He rubbed his arm absently as she continued, “You and Keith!”

“What about us?” he asked, his thoughts a bit scrambled from alcohol.

Allura rolled her eyes. “Oh my god. You can’t be _that_ drunk.”

“I’m not! I just don’t know what you want me to say!”

“Just... Those letters really worked their magic, huh?”

Lance laughed weakly. “Yeah, I, uh… I guess so.” He bit his lip and looked up at Allura. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Of course not! Your secret’s safe with me,” Allura laughed, winking.

They chatted for a few more minutes until Keith suddenly appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, looking conflicted and upset. Lance spotted him before Allura did and frowned, but as soon as Keith’s eyes landed on Lance and Allura, he smiled softly and walked inside, some of the tension gone from his shoulders.

“Hey,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around Lance’s waist. Lance blamed it on the alcohol in his system when he melted into the touch. Keith seemed to tear his eyes away from Lance and looked up at Allura, his smile straining slightly. “Hey, Allura.”

“Hey, Kogane,” Allura replied, looking amused. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking about leaving pretty soon.” Keith looked down at Lance. “Would you be okay with that?”

Lance looked over at Allura instead, frowning slightly. “Allura?”

She laughed and waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I only came here to flirt with Romelle anyways. Go have fun, and if you have a hangover tomorrow, text me. I’ll bring you some of my uncle’s famous hangover cure drink! He calls it nunvil. I don’t know why.”

Lance laughed and waved as Keith gently began leading him away. “Bye! Tell me how the thing with Romelle goes!” he shouted. Allura waved back and disappeared into the crowd.

On the way out of the party, a few people called out goodbyes to Keith, but to Lance’s surprise, some of them shouted goodbyes to him too. Keith laughed quietly at his confused expression as they walked down the steps of Greg’s house to Red. “See? Told you they’d like you.”

Lance smiled to himself and shrugged. “Yeah, you did.”

Keith laughed again and finally let go of his waist to open the passenger side door. Lance missed the warmth almost immediately, but he murmured a “thank you” anyways and got in.

Both of them were quiet for a couple of minutes as Keith began driving Lance home, but suddenly he spoke up over the jazz station that had been playing earlier. “What was the name of that cafe you were eating in on Monday?”

“ _The Five Lions_ ,” Lance mumbled, peeling open an eye. “It’s open till midnight.”

Keith glanced at the clock. It was barely 8:30. “Well, it’d definitely still be open. You okay with that?”

Lance laughed. “Hell yeah!” he enthused, suddenly awake. “I _love_ their tater tots!”

“And their blueberry smoothies.”

Lance paused and looked at Keith, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How’d you know that?”

Keith shrugged. It was too dark to really read his facial expression. “It’s what you had last time. I figured if you were upset, you were probably eating comfort food. A blueberry smoothie and a thing of tater tots is textbook comfort food.”

Lance hummed and let the subject drop, too drunk to really question how Keith had remembered something as inconsequential as that. “What’s _your_ favorite comfort food?” he asked after a moment, turning in his seat so he could face Keith without turning his head.

Keith shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t really have one. I don’t typically eat when I’m stressed.”

“But _everyone_ has a comfort food,” Lance protested, pouting. “Even someone as emo as you.”

“I’m not--!” Keith started, but he cut himself off with a sigh. “Whatever. I guess… peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? And Kraft mac n’ cheese. They were pretty much the only two things my dad could make without hurting himself.”

“I didn’t know you had a dad.”

“Everyone has a dad. Mine happens to not be around anymore.”

“...Oh.”

Keith sighed. “Just-- Don’t worry about it, Lance. It was years ago. It doesn’t… it’s fine.”

Lance decided to stay quiet, even though it was very obvious that Keith was lying through his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been 84 years, but here's the next chapter. the excuse this time: part writer's block, part getting obsessed with a new au (it's eros and psyche and i am _not_ valid) and having to draw lance approximately 500 times, and having to do a creative writing project that i am currently procrastinating on so i can write this. but hopefully there will be another chapter soon? i kind of broke my own two-chapter buffer rule rip me.
> 
> as always, comments are greatly appreciated! i try to not respond to all of them because i don't wanna look like a Thirsty Bitch, but i promise i see them and i love reading them!! <3 also also, any suggested edits or questions, don't hesitate to ask!
> 
> i'm finally linking my [tumblr](https://teatimeforthesoul.tumblr.com/) so you guys can check out some of the other invalid stuff i reblog/occasionally post. have fun!


	7. Trying to Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith talk about love and loss over tater tots and milkshakes. Lance begins to realize that pretending might be harder than he thought.

The rest of the car ride to _The Five Lions_ happened in tense silence. The soothing jazz playing over the car radio was juxtaposed against Keith pointedly staring out the windshield and Lance turning himself so he was looking out the passenger window, hugging his arms and frowning in guilt. It felt awful, and after a second, Lance realized that this was probably the first time either of them were anything other than friendly and playful with each other. They’d only been fake-dating for a day (he didn’t count yesterday, when they’d signed the contract), but Lance was already used to the easy banter and comfortable feeling he got whenever he was around Keith. To have it suddenly gone made him feel cold and miserable.

He gripped his arms tighter and willed the car ride to go faster.

When they got to _The Five Lions_ , Keith pulled into a parking spot and shut off the car, but he didn’t make any move to open the door. Lance, who had straightened and reached to unclip his seatbelt, paused and looked at him warily.

After another second, Keith let out a big sigh and slowly relaxed his shoulders. He turned to look at Lance, his face a bit guilty as well. “I’m… I’m sorry about blowing up like that,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sounding loud in the sudden silence of the car.

Lance smiled slowly and shrugged. “No problem, dude. I shouldn’t’ve pressured you to open up about that. If anything, _I_ should be sorry for being such a huge, nosy asshole.”

Keith laughed quietly and shook his head. “No way. You were just being curious.” He cut Lance off before he could protest. “Let’s just agree to forget that happened and go get some food, yeah?”

Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith briefly, but Keith seemed closed off again. Not so much that they weren’t talking, like before, but Lance didn’t want to test his luck and try talking about Keith’s dad again until he was more sober and maybe a bit more tactful. He relented with a smile and nodded, and both of them unclipped their seatbelts and got out of the car.

The door jingled happily when they walked inside, and Joan looked up to smile at both of them. “Seat yourselves, I’ll be over in a second!” she called right before she disappeared into the kitchen. Lance lead Keith over to a table in the front of the cafe, and they sat down.

He helped Keith pick out what he wanted from the menu, and they passed the time between ordering and getting their food by comparing what happened at the party.

“You did a great job. Lotor was _pissed_ ,” Keith chuckled. “He cornered me in the bathroom, you know. He tried to take your sea-glass bracelet too.”

Lance scowled slightly, but the expression quickly went away as Joan came over with their food. Lance got his usual tater tots and blueberry milkshake, but Keith had opted for a burger, fries, and a _strawberry_ milkshake, much to Lance’s chagrin. Keith was unswayed by Lance’s assertion that the blueberry milkshake was superior, and when Lance accused him of only ordering it to make Lance angry, he’d just smirked and quirked an eyebrow, as if silently challenging Lance to prove it. Lance had looked away before Keith could see him blush, but he still had the distinct feeling Keith had seen it anyways.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Lance stealing a bite of Keith’s burger and Keith stealing a few of Lance’s tater tots in retaliation. They scuffled playfully, but when one of Lance’s gangly elbows got a bit too close to Keith’s shake, they both agreed on a truce.

“Anyways, like I was saying, you did a great job tonight,” Keith said, picking up a fry and dunking it in ketchup. “Lotor’s probably going to be upset for the rest of the week, if not longer.”

Lance snorted and finished swallowing his mouthful of blueberry shake. “Yeah, well, I can only hope he doesn’t try poisoning me sometime tomorrow,” he snorted. “Apparently his parents are in the mob, so they could hide the body or whatever.”

“Nah, Zarkon and Honerva are weird, but I don’t think they’re mob-level weird. They might run a cult or something, but I think that’s the worst of it.”

Lance barked out a surprised laugh. “Oh my god.”

Keith smirked around his straw as he took a long draw of his own milkshake. “Trust me on this, Lance. I’ve had more than enough awkward dinners with them to know.”

Lance shook his head in disbelief. Keith laughed along for a moment before he paused. “I just…” he started, and Lance looked up. It took him another moment to continue. “I love that you’re not afraid of him,” he blurted, his face looking a bit pink. “Lotor, I mean. A lot of people bend over backwards to make him happy or at least stay off his shit list, but you’re one of the few who don’t care. Who aren’t afraid.”

Lance scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No, you’re wrong. I’m _terrified_ of him.”

Keith shook his head. “Yeah, but you don’t let him walk all over you. Like the first day of school when he was trying to mock your shoes.”

Lance groaned and covered his face with his hands. His ears only burned brighter as Keith laughed. “God, you remembered that?” he whined. “Ugh.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” Keith asked between laughs, lightly tugging on Lance’s hands to get him to look up. He did, albeit extremely reluctantly. “But of course I remember them. I mean, I couldn’t say anything in front of Lotor because we were still together at the time, but they were really cool. That Neil deGrasse Tyson quote is actually my favorite. Lotor’s hot, yeah, but you have _much_ better style.”

Lance flushed. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Eventually, he managed to stammer a quick “thanks”.

He was saved from having to try and make more conversation by Joan coming back over. “Need anything else?” she asked, picking up the empty basket of tots.

“Nope, I think we’re good,” Keith said with a grin.

“I’ll be back with the check, then.” She walked off, leaving Keith and Lance alone again.

Lance was slurping up the last of his milkshake when Keith’s phone suddenly went off. He watched, confused, as Keith dug it out of his pocket and scowled down at the screen.

“Ugh, he just… he makes me so _angry_ sometimes,” Keith muttered, seemingly to himself.

“Lotor?” Lance asked, standing and beginning to pull on his jacket.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed, shaking his head. “He barely talks to me during the party, but as soon as we left, he started blowing up my phone.”

“But you haven’t been responding.” It was a statement, not a question, and Lance surprised himself with his boldness. He was beginning to get dangerously nosy again, and he didn’t want to end his night with Keith on a bad note for real this time.

Keith, however, didn’t seem to care. “No,” he agreed. “But I’ll probably have to call him when I get home or something.”

“You still call him?” Lance asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. Definitely less than we used to, but yeah.” Keith shrugged indifferently.

Lance stared at him for a couple seconds until Keith scowled. “What?” He tilted his head, mock innocent. “You’re judging me,” Keith grumbled. “That’s the same look you get on your face when Lotor says something dumb or pretends to be nice to you.”

“Maybe I just think that it’s really weird you still talk to your ex-boyfriend,” Lance said lightly, half-turning away and fixing his jacket hood. “Doesn’t sound healthy, honestly.”

“Wow, McClain, never knew you were such an expert,” Keith snapped. “Get off your high horse, I know you’ve never dated anyone before.”

Lance scowled, his face flushing hot. “You’ve only had _one_ boyfriend, and you’re obviously completely obsessed with him, so you’re not exactly _James Bond_ there, Kogane.”

Keith rose to the bait beautifully. “Okay, I am not _obsessed_ with Lotor. Secondly—”

Lance held up his hand, cutting Keith off. Smirking, he leaned forward on the table. “Prove it then.”

Keith blinked, surprised. “What?”

“ _Prove it_ ,” Lance repeated, slower. “Don’t call Lotor tonight.”

“You know, for someone who’s apparently pretty shy, you sure have a lot of opinions,” Keith grumbled, narrowing his eyes.

Lance shrugged, slowly sitting down across from Keith again. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I’m just the first person who’s not intimidated by your whole bad boy aesthetic.”

Keith’s scowl quickly disappeared. “You think I’m a bad boy?” Keith chuckled, leaning forward.

His smirk sent a shiver down Lance’s spine, but it was the good kind that had him leaning even closer before he could stop himself. “Maybe,” he murmured. “I’m just saying that obviously no one’s ever been honest with you. You’re 100% obsessed with Lotor.”

Keith shook his head. “Okay. Fine. We’re being ‘honest’ now? Then be ‘honest’ with me. How come you’ve never dated?”

Lance froze for a moment, caught off guard. He wet his lips and looked down at his hands. Keith’s eyes were intense, even when Lance wasn’t looking at them. “Dunno. Guess no one’s ever been all that interested,” he mumbled.

Keith shook his head. “Nope, you’re lying.” Lance looked up, confused, but he just smiled. “I _know_ you’re lying because I know for a fact that Plaxum Whitman asked you to Spring Formal last year and _you_ rejected _her_.”

“You stalking me, Kogane?” Lance tried to phrase it like a joke, but it fell flat.

“You’re dodging the question,” Keith retorted. He suddenly softened. “Come on, McClain. Talk to me. I’m not gonna make fun of you or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re in this together.”

Lance stayed quiet for a minute and fiddled with his jacket sleeves. He expected Keith to get impatient and let the subject fall, but to his surprise, Keith just sat there and waited for Lance to speak up.

He did, eventually. “Don’t get me wrong, I _love_ to read about romance,” he started. “It’s fun to think about and write about and talk about, but…”

“Reality is messy,” Keith finished quietly. “And scary.”

Lance nodded. They were both quiet for another moment before Keith tilted his head slightly and asked, gentler than Lance had ever heard him, “Why’s that scary to you?”

Lance clenched his jaw. “Because people leave,” he said in a near whisper. “They lose interest and eventually, they just leave.”

“Like… like your dad,” Keith added hesitantly.

Lance stiffened. “ _Birth_ father,” he corrected. “My mom remarried, and now I have a stepdad.”

Keith nodded again, and they both stayed quiet for a long time. Keith broke it first, surprisingly. “Did you know that my dad died?” he asked quietly.

Lance shook his head mutely. Keith picked up a straw wrapper and began to slowly shred it. “Yeah, well, he was a firefighter. I grew up in Texas, and one year, when I was about ten, there was this really bad drought. He was working overtime because the grass was so dry we kept getting wildfires. One day, the fire spread to someone’s farm. He ran back in to double-check that they’d gotten everyone out of the house when it collapsed with him still in it.” His hand clenched, and the rest of the wrapper crumpled in his fist.

Lance placed his hand on top of Keith’s, and Keith glanced up, obviously still wary of Lance’s reaction. He smiled softly, trying to make his face as open as possible. “Thank you for telling me that. I… I can’t imagine how much that must’ve hurt.”

Keith shrugged, looking back down. His cheeks looked a bit pink, but Lance barely noticed. “Yeah, well. It was a while ago. It’s whatever now.”

“It’s not,” Lance mumbled, squeezing Keith’s hand. “Shit like that stays with you. I would know. Slightly different scenario, I know, but… it sucks just as much.”

Keith smiled slowly and looked back up. “Yeah,” he murmured.

They stared for another few moments before Lance suddenly realized he was still holding Keith’s hand. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he let go and placed his hands on his lap. “A-anyways, I just, um… I want you to know that if… if you wanna, you know, talk about it or whatever, I’m… I’m always willing to lend an ear.”

Keith nodded, his smile only growing softer. Lance found he couldn’t look away if he tried, even as his face burned ever hotter.

Suddenly, though, the smile turned to a thoughtful look. Lance squirmed a bit in his seat. “What?”

“I just think it’s funny,” Keith said slowly. “You say you’re scared of relationships and opening up, but…” He licked his lips, and Lance struggled to keep himself focused. “You just don’t seem to be afraid when you’re with _me_ ,” he finished, looking up at Lance through his eyelashes.

It took Lance a second to remember how to breathe, let alone how to form coherent words. “I… Well, it’s different,” he mumbled. “There’s no _reason_ to be afraid with you.”

Keith’s smile came back. “Really?” he asked, his voice a low purr. “Why’s that?”

Lance bit his lip and tried to get his blush under control. It didn’t work. “Because this isn’t real,” he said as flatly as he could. He mustered up a wry smile. “We’re just pretending.”

Keith’s smile dropped, his eyes turning cold and distant. He stood suddenly and grabbed his coat. Joan came over, smiling, but upon sensing the awkward atmosphere suddenly stretching between the two boys, hovered uncertainly a few feet away. “Right. I forgot,” Keith muttered sarcastically. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Lance Estevez-McClain. You can always count on him to be honest. Always.”

Lance frowned in confusion and stood up slowly as well. “W-wait, Keith, what’s— are we cool?”

Keith smiled, faker than Lance had ever seen. “Why wouldn’t we be, McClain?”

He took the check from Joan with a polite nod and walked over to the cash register to pay, leaving Lance standing by the table, more than a little confused. Joan looked at him for answers, but all he could give her was a shrug.

 

The ride home from _The Five Lions_ was arguably worse than the ride there. Lance tried breaking the silence a few times, but Keith’s answers were short and flat. In the fleeting streetlights, it was impossible to read Keith’s expression, but Lance could tell that regardless of what Keith said, they _weren’t_ cool.

“Good night,” was all Keith said before driving off. Lance stared after his car for a few moments, but eventually, the chill of the night urged him inside.

His mom greeted him when he walked in, and it took all of Lance’s acting skills to pretend that everything was fine and that the party had gone absolutely perfect (and was entirely school-appropriate). Eventually, though, he feigned sleepiness and managed to slip away upstairs.

He was standing in the center of his room, trying to process everything, when his phone suddenly went off. It was an Instagram notification, and when Lance unlocked his phone, he was greeted with a photo of him and Keith at the party. They’d taken a few pics for Keith’s Snapchat, but this was a candid one taken right as Keith had kissed him on the cheek. Lance’s lips were slightly parted in surprise, but he was smiling. It was cute, Lance had to agree. Keith had tagged Lance’s face and captioned it “him” with a blue heart. Lance’s real heart gave a painful twinge, and he didn’t want to think why.

It took him a minute to remember that he was probably supposed to reply. Licking his lips, he liked the photo and opened up the comments. A few of Keith’s friends were lightly teasing him, and one comment thread in particular caught Lance’s eyes:

**captaintakashit** Ooo, good one, bro! He’s cute! ;)) When do I get to meet him?  
 **kogayne** Preferably never, actually.  
 **captaintakashit** :’O You treat your own brother like this????  
 **kogayne** Perish.

Lance laughed quietly to himself and shook his head fondly. “Oh my god, of _course_ he’s secret meme trash!” he whispered fondly.

Before he could stop himself, he was adding to the thread.

**bluesharpshooter** gasp!! don’t be mean to your own brother, keef!!!! you should definitely invite me to a family dinner ;) also, i always knew you were a total sap

He added a couple heart emojis of his own to make his point and began to strip. By the time he finished his nightly skincare routine and changed into his pajamas, his comment had been liked by “captaintakashit” and replied to by both them and Keith.

**captaintakashit** See, “Keef”? Your boyfriend agrees!! Invite him to dinner!!!! :D  
 **kogayne** No comment.

Lance melted a bit more and dropped onto his bed with a lovesick sigh. It was a shame this was all fake. Keith was already shaping up to be a wonderful boyfriend, both in private _and_ in public. He wondered how Keith would be if it were real.

With that thought, he turned off his light and rolled over onto his side to sleep, trying not to think about Keith anymore.

 

Lance woke up the next day, his face stained bright red and heart still fluttering. So much for not thinking about Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i no longer have any chapters already written, so you guys are gonna have to wait a little while till i can manage to write another chapter. i will try to get the chapter up before new year's, but no promises. i procrastinated too much on christmas gifts, and now i'm suffering the consequences. sorry again, but worry not, i am not abandoning this fic!! i'm determined to finish it.
> 
> fingers crossed for s8 tomorrow. i'm gonna cry regardless of how the series ends, so yay...? regardless, Klance Is Canon King, as we all been knew. love you all!
> 
> comment/review/kudos always appreciated! :) and if i don't post anything before 2019, happy holidays and happy new year!!!
> 
> p.s. - you know how i said that football jock keith and marching band nerd lance wouldn't really show up? i might've lied. sorry, but the thrall of the band memes was just too much. tw for lance playing trumpet. i wanted to make him color guard (aka flag team or w/e people outside my band calls them) but then one of my friends pointed out that he's got the personality of a trumpet, and then i was like "shit u right" and now we have trumpet/band nerd lance. sorry again.


	8. Just a Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first football game of many, and a long-overdue conversation about the letters.

It took Lance a few minutes to remember that as much as his body wanted it to be the weekend, it was still only a Thursday. Worse than that, he had band practice after school, and since Keith had football practice right after, Nadia would be forced to use the bus, and Rosa would have to pick Lance up after band. After a few minutes of noodling around on his phone and trying (failing) to not be upset when he realized he had no new texts from Keith, Lance forced himself out of his bed and began to get ready for school.

Despite the odd end to their “date” last night, things were almost back to normal between Keith and Lance. He could still sense some residual tension, but Nadia was completely oblivious to it and lightened the mood until it seemed like there was nothing wrong at all. It lasted all throughout the day, and by lunch, Keith was closer than ever and had his hand lightly groping Lance’s ass as he escorted Lance towards his usual lunch table for “introductions”.

It went well, and the school day continued to pass mostly uneventfully with Keith breaking a few rules and meeting up with Lance in the library to hang out during study hall. Lance insisted on using the time to actually do his homework, but Keith was content to sit next to him, his feet up on the table despite the librarian’s death glare, and read a book. When Lance had glanced over at the cover, he blinked.

“‘ _The Song of Achilles_ ’,” he read slowly. Keith glanced over at him. “What’s that? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s basically fanfiction of _The Iliad_ ,” Keith replied nonchalantly.

Lance choked, trying to stifle a giggle. “ _What_?”

“ _The Iliad_ ,” Keith explained patiently, putting down the book. “It’s this really famous Greek epic poem written by--”

“No, no, I know what _The Iliad_ is, I’m just... Really? _That’s_ what it’s about?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, though it focuses less on Odysseus and all the godly stuff and more on Achilles and his lover Patroclus.”

“‘Lover’?” Lance repeated, confused. “I thought they were friends.”

Keith rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Yeah because you would definitely go into a self-destructive killing spree if your ‘friend’ died trying to prove to you that you were being a prideful asshole.”

Lance thought of Hunk and Pidge and inhaled sharply. “ _Well_ …”

Keith paused. “Okay, well, maybe you would. But there’s a lot of other subtext in _The Iliad_ too. And it’s not like gay relationships were unheard of back in ancient Greece. They were actually pretty common, though having male lovers was considered more like a sexual frustration thing than an actual option for romance.”

Lance hummed, thoughtful. “Well, is it any good?” he asked after a moment.

Keith grinned. “Definitely. Achilles and Patroclus’ relationship is really sweet.”

Lance smiled back, happy to see Keith excited about something as small as a good book. He might drive a loud, red convertible and wear a leather jacket, but he was a total dweeb at heart. “Maybe I’ll read it when I have the time,” Lance hummed, turning back to his Astronomy homework.

 

Besides a slightly hellish band practice than included Lance having to once again take off his shirt and enjoy some catcalls from the football team when they ran past and fake-flirting with an oddly constipated-looking Keith before he left, Thursday passed like any other day. Lance successfully avoided another Skype call from Veronica and spent a few hours with Pidge, trying to beat whatever absurdly difficult and obscure game she’d brought over that night. By the time he woke up on Friday, almost jittering with excitement for the first football game of the season, he’d completely forgotten about his and Keith’s weird conversation.

The school day passed uneventfully. Lance got praised for his trumpet playing in fourth-period band and rode high on the compliment for the rest of the day. He and Keith again spent their study hall in the library, though this time, Lance brought out his laptop and they watched _Spider-Man: Homecoming_ because Keith was a filthy heathen who had only ever watched the first Tobey Maguire movie.

After a laid-back English class, the final bell rang, and Keith and Lance headed down to their respective lockers to get their stuff and head out. Keith was only given an hour to get some dinner, so they walked to the pizza place right next to the school’s campus. They talked and joked around as they waited for their food, and Lance snuck a picture of Keith laughing at something one of his friends had sent him. He was hoping to post it to his Snapchat, but instead, he made it his home screen and put his phone away to ask about Keith’s dog.

Keith had lit up like a Christmas tree and scrambled to show Lance a picture. To say Kosmo was a “dog” was a little bit of a misnomer. At first, Kosmo looked like a very fluffy Husky puppy, but as he grew in size, it quickly became apparent that there was definitely something other than Husky mixed in. No normal dog would be as tall as Keith when standing on its hind legs, nor would it apparently weigh almost one hundred pounds.

“Keith, are you _sure_ Kosmo is a dog?” Lance asked hesitantly, glancing up at his fake-boyfriend.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Of course he is. My mom might’ve found him in the middle of the woods, but he’s too sweet to be a wild animal.”

Definitely a wolf-dog, but who was Lance to judge? He shrugged and began cooing over the photos again, making Keith swear that he would be able to meet Kosmo soon. Keith readily agreed, and the two of them talked about their love of dogs and cats and basically every animal on the planet for the rest of dinner. Well, if you could really call it “dinner” when they were walking out with full bellies and half a pizza left over at 2:57 in the afternoon.

They’d hung outside for a few minutes afterwards, just sitting under one of the trees on the “trumpet hill” and playing around on their phones, but eventually, Keith had to get to his pre-game practice. He’d hauled himself and Lance to their feet, and the two fake-boyfriends had parted ways with a wave.

“Cheer for me!” Keith called, walking backwards.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Only if you’re good!” he shouted back, half-inside the building. The sound of Keith’s laughter followed him for longer than it should’ve been able to.

The next couple of hours passed in a blur. Lance found Pidge loitering near the band room, and they took turns playing Minecraft on Pidge’s Switch until call time.

After that, it was hectic. Pidge ducked out not long after people began to flood in, and Lance was dashing around from place to place, helping what felt like every freshman in the band with putting on their uniforms and finding their mouthpieces or finding someone with an extra reed or tuning or remembering where they would be standing when it came time to march down to the stadium.

After a quick warm-up in the auditorium, they lined up in parade block behind the school and waited around for about ten minutes before finally marching down to the stadium. The road was lined with band parents and a few curious sport’s fans, and Lance tried to keep his eyes straight ahead and his expression serious but excited. The freshmen barely even tried, bless their hearts.

Pre-game went about as well as their first pre-game could have gone - Lance still thought last year’s was the absolute worst - and the band took their seats in the bleachers behind the end zone just as the football players took the field and met up in the middle to do the coin toss. Lance looked for Keith, but from this far away, it was hard to see the numbers. Besides, he had to try and keep the trumpet section from self-destructing as he tried to explain to them that their assigned seats had been moved over a section this year.

“Hey, McClain, is it true that you’re dating the runningback?” one of the trombone’s asked. His name was Tyler, and he was one of the few kids in the band who actually knew anything about sports.

Lance felt himself begin to sweat, and it wasn’t just because he was stuck wearing long, wool overalls in the end-of-summer Florida heat. “Uh, Keith? Yeah. Why do you ask?”

Tyler smirked and pointed towards the field. “Cause it looks like he’s staring at you.”

Lance looked and sure enough, number 84 was looking over his shoulder at the band section as the players got lined up for the first play. Lance waved, but it was probably impossible to tell it was him with the whole band wearing the same uniform pants and purple band shirts underneath. Keith turned back around as the other players began to crouch down, and Lance was greeted with the best view possible of Keith’s ass in whatever tight pants they made him wear with his football jersey.

Tyler and seemingly the rest of the band gave him knowing looks the rest of the night, and Lance was doing all he could to stay hydrated and not looking at Keith’s ass. It was kind of hard, especially when the Lions kept advancing closer and closer to the band’s end of the field, hoping to score a touchdown. It seemed like every time Lance looked up, there was Keith, doing something athletic or just talking with one of the other players, looking unfairly hot in uniform. Unfair because Lance looked like a dork, even if his uniform jacket made his shoulders look a little bit broader.

A few minutes left into the second quarter, and the band was ushered behind the bleachers to warm up for their half-time show and get tuned up. Lance pulled his phone out from unknowable places in his uniform and helped individually tune the trumpets. He fluttered around the area, reminding freshmen where to line up and answering any last-minute questions. A sudden roar from the crowd in the bleachers had him looking up at the field, only to see Keith running right for him.

The first thought that came through his head was not the logical assumption that Keith was about to score a goal. He barely even _registered_ the other team hot on Keith’s tail, hoping to trip him up before he reached the end zone. Instead, all he could think was how embarrassing and romantic it would be to be kissed in front of an entire football stadium. Sure, the band was still half-tucked behind their bleachers, but Lance and a small cluster of other people had begun to slowly creep their way towards the sidelines to get ready to line up.

Thankfully, or maybe unfortunately, Keith reached the end zone and immediately slowed down. Even as the other members of his team swarmed him and the crowd screamed its approval and the announcers shouted the good news and the scoreboard awarded the Voltron Lions six points, Lance could feel Keith’s eyes shifting to him and not leaving. He only looked away when one of his teammates shoved him a bit too hard and almost made him fall over, but even then, he looked back almost immediately. Lance was definitely turning red.

The players celebrated for another couple of moments before they began to quickly jog away to set up their kick for an extra point. Keith seemed reluctant to go and waved shyly to Lance. Lance smiled and waved back, and he was suddenly sure that if Keith hadn’t been wearing that stupid helmet, he probably would’ve smiled right back. Chest feeling warm from more than just wearing his uniform jacket again, Lance turned and faced the knowing looks of his peers.

The rest of the game was uneventful. The halftime show was great, the Lions scored a few more points, and the game ended 24-14, Lions. The football team disappeared into the locker rooms, and the band marched back up to the school to take off and turn in their sweaty uniforms, laughing and high off their first real performance (nobody really counted Parent Night on their last day of band camp).

When Lance finally turned on his phone again and checked his notifications, he saw a couple texts from Pidge, his family, and Hunk, but one in particular caught his eye.

It was just a simple “ _Hey_ ” from Keith, but it made Lance smile softly.

Balancing his uniform bag and hat box in one hand - a trick the freshmen would have to learn if they wanted to survive next week’s away game - he typed back a quick “ _aren’t you supposed to be listening to a motivational, post-game speech or something from coach iverson?_ ”

 _Probably_ , was Keith’s cheeky reply.  
_I don’t care, though.  
I already know we did good._

_ooo feeling cocky?_

_Maybe_

_why?  
i might start to roast your playing tonight_

_You couldn’t even if you wanted to  
I know for a fact you don’t know anything about football_

Lance sent Keith a picture of the “you got me there” guy, and he got a string of laughing emojis back. He giggled into his palm.

“Damn, Lance, you got it bad,” one of the kids behind him snickered.

Lance blushed and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it. And he didn’t stop texting Keith until his mom picked him up to take him home.

 

Lance only got more and more used to his new fake-relationship with Keith as time went on. They hung out casually every once in a while after school, and they even went to see a movie together during the weekend. Lance began to get more involved with Keith’s friend group until it became normal for him to follow Keith to his lunch table and joke around. He got lightly teased for his shyness and aversion to eating in front of other people, but Keith always defended him, even though Lance knew the others weren’t being mean.

Still, it wasn’t perfect.

There were moments where Lance and Keith would seem to go back almost to their first disastrous “date” at _The Five Lions_. Lance would say something, usually about how their relationship was technically fake or would joke about how it would end before the ski trip, and Keith would clam up. He would lose his smile and find some excuse to walk away or change the subject, and their conversations would be strained for the next few hours. Then, after a short break, everything would be back to normal, almost like it never happened.

Ryan didn’t completely disappear either. Every once in a while, Lance would catch a quick glimpse of him in the hall, and suddenly all the guilt he thought he’d gotten rid of would come right on back, worse and worse every time.

It took almost till the end of October before Ryan finally confronted him. Lance was ordering the last part of his costume for school on Wednesday when somebody came knocking on the door. He’d foolishly hoped that it was somebody else, maybe Keith dropping by for a surprise visit like he did from time to time, but he couldn’t say he was all that surprised when he saw that it was Ryan instead.

“Can we talk?” Ryan asked before Lance could even open his mouth. “Please?”

Lance slipped on his shoes and walked outside into the brisk, fall air. He tried to focus on how short the days were getting now that winter was slowly closing in, but it was impossible to ignore Ryan’s sad, confused gaze and slumped spine as he sat down on one of the chairs on Lance’s front porch and fixed Lance with a look until the blue-eyed boy stopped stalling and looked back.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Kogane,” he said.

Lance felt his temper flare a bit, and he muttered, defensively, “What’s your problem with me and Keith?”

“I don’t know!” Ryan grumbled, throwing up his hands. It was odd to see him get worked up so quickly, especially when he was usually so calm and collected and quiet. “He’s--!”

“Is it _really_ that unbelievable that someone could like me?” Lance cut in, crossing his arms and glaring. “You’re not the boss of me, Ryan. I’m allowed to like whoever I like.”

“I’m not saying you can’t! I’m just saying that it’s _unbelievable_ that of all the guys you go for, you go for him. You’re so sweet, Lance, and _he_ … He’s a total dick!” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I just… I just don’t _get it_ , okay? How you could like someone like _him_.”

Lance’s eyes turned cold. “You make me sound so innocent and boring,” he spat. “Has it ever occured to you that maybe I’m _not_?”

Ryan gave Lance a disbelieving look. “Lance--”

Lance interrupted again and began to move towards the door. He’d been dreading this conversation since finding out Ryan had somehow gotten Lance’s old letter, but this was actually going worse than he would’ve thought. “Look, if the reason you came over here was just to feed me some bullshit about Keith being a dick - which, by the way, he’s definitely not - then…” He reached the door and gestured for Ryan to leave.

Ryan grabbed his arm just as Lance began to open the front door. “Wait!” he cried. Lance tugged his arm out of Ryan’s grip and gave him an icy look. Ryan had the good sense to look sheepish.

“Did you mean what you wrote in the letter?” he asked quietly.

Lance grimaced and half-turned away. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “It was a long time ago.” At least, it _felt_ like a long time ago. In reality, it had probably been less than six months.

“Not for me, it’s not!” Ryan half-laughed, half-choked. “I mean, it’s only been, like, two months, and this is the first time I think we’ve talked since then! This is all still so new to me, and I-I’m trying to figure out what’s… what’s going on o-or how this changes things…!”

“There’s nothing to understand,” Lance pressed, looking up at him with a resigned expression. “It was a mistake. You never should’ve seen that.”

“But I did!” Ryan shouts. “I _did_ see it, and I can’t keep acting like I didn’t! Or, worse, like I don’t even _know_ you! I mean, really, Lance, what the hell am I supposed to do with this information?”

Lance shrugged, too tired to even really care about Ryan’s outburst anymore. God, he wished this would just end already, and he could go back to his computer and call Hunk and talk about it and get advice and then forget it ever happened. “Just don’t tell Veronica.”

“ _Veronica’s_ not talking to me either!” Ryan laughed humorlessly. “I mean… God, Lance, if I had known I would’ve lost _both_ of you, I would’ve--”

“Don’t,” Lance said sharply, his tiredness suddenly gone. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Ryan scowls. “So this is how it’s gonna be?” he asked after a tense couple of seconds. “Veronica dumps me, you’re dating Kogane, and suddenly, we can’t even be friends anymore?”

“What do you expect from me, Ryan?” Lance snaps. “We can’t go back to the way things were _before_ you and Veronica were dating, and we _definitely_ can’t go back to _during_ your guys’ relationship!”

He opened the door the rest of the way. “Face it, Ryan. It’s done.”

The door slams shut behind him, and Ryan’s protests are cut off by the solid panel of wood between them. Lance feels numb and angry and ready to cry all at once, and his phone is in his hands before he can think of what else to do.

_you free tonight?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no excuse for taking so long to post this chapter besides a bout of post s8 depression and lots of no motivation and forgetfulness. if you're still bothering to read this, here you go! hope this makes up for it. if not, well... guess i'll die. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> no clue when the next chapter will be, but hopefully it won't take me literal months ^^"
> 
> kudos/comments/etc. are greatly appreciated, and if you catch any mistakes or have any suggestions or critiques, i'll be sure to listen!


	9. Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys will be boys, boys will catch feelings, and boys will be vulnerable.

Procrastinating and drowning his feelings in popcorn and reruns of his favorite movies were two of Lance’s special talents, and tonight was no exception. Nadia and Sylvio often joined in, though they both pretended to hate it whenever Lance put on a romcom.

It was a bit different tonight, though. _Sixteen Candles_ played on the TV, and like usual, two bowls of popcorn were being steadily drained of their contents, but now Keith was lounging next to Lance, fingers intertwined with his, and watching the movie with a critical eye.

“I know this is your favorite movie or whatever, but this Long Duk Dong dude is really racist, you gotta admit,” he grumbled. “Why do you even _like_ this movie?”

Nadia scoffed. “Yeah, it’s racist, but have you _seen_ Jake Ryan?”

Keith looked thoughtful for a moment before humming and nodding his head. “Fair point.” He shoved some popcorn in his mouth, then smirked. “I’m _way_ hotter, though.”

Lance rolled his eyes and looked away before Keith could catch him blushing. Thankfully, he was preoccupied by Nadia snorting, “You wish!”

“Oh, yeah?” Keith laughed, swallowing the last of his popcorn and sitting up. “Is that a challenge, little McClain?”

“And if it is?” Nadia asked, not backing down.

“Oh, it is _on_!” Keith shouted, grabbing for a pillow. “Incoming!”

Sylvio woke with a start as the two began to lightly smack each other with the various pillows scattered on the couch. He definitely didn’t know what the pillow fight was over, but that didn’t stop him from grinning wickedly and grabbing a pillow of his own. “Finally, something _interesting_ is happening!” he shouted, beginning to tag-team Keith with his sister.

Lance noticed as Keith carefully placed their bowls of popcorn on the floor to save them from the fierce battle. He smiled softly and watched them instead of the movie for a long, long time. Even after the “battle” was over and Keith was done pleading his new children overlords for mercy, he couldn’t help but watch Keith out of the corner of his eye. It was probably the first time he’d ever missed so much of his favorite romcom.

He was getting much too attached, and he wasn’t the only one.

 

After a Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday filled with guilt and bitter resentment and avoiding Ryan like the plague, to say Lance was excited for Halloween on Wednesday was an understatement.

He’d specifically planned his bed time on Tuesday so he could wake up half an hour early and get his costume ready. It was an unofficial tradition for the school to dress up for Halloween, but Lance had always put more effort into it than most. Last year, he’d been Prince Naveen. This year, though, he was switching from his usual trend of heroes or princes or good guys and being someone completely different.

When Keith pulled up to pick him and Nadia up, he was greeted with Nadia in a cat onesie and Lance in a vintage tuxedo, a cape, and a wide-brimmed hat with a cluster of bright feathers and (fake) black roses and wolfsbane tucked in the band. Lance had also put on dark eyeshadow and liner to make his eyes pop, and beneath the iconic, white mask covering up half of his face, he’d drawn on a few fake scars.

Keith, meanwhile, had gone the much lazier route and dressed up as a greaser, though Lance couldn’t complain much about his choice of costume when it meant he was wearing black jeans so tight they looked painted on. A white undershirt had been messily tucked into the waistband of said jeans, and a black leather jacket warded off the slight morning chill and completed the rebellious look. His hair had been slicked back with some gel, and given some extra volume to mimic a pompadour. A pair of shades were hanging off the low-cut collar of his shirt.

His neutral expression quickly morphed into one of open-mouthed shock when he took in the sight of Lance’s costume. Lance wasn’t much better, though he recovered faster and spun around so Keith could see every angle of his costume. “Eh?” he prompted, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

Keith blinked slowly, and in the dim lighting, his cheeks flushed pink. “You look... really good,” he finally managed. His voice sounded raspier than usual, and Lance felt his face heat up more. “Phantom of the Opera?”

Lance grinned and nodded. “Yeah, though without the mask I probably just look like a really cool dude in a cape.” He laughed at his own joke.

Keith chuckled and looked over at Nadia. He offered her a high five, which she accepted with a giggle. “Liking the cat onesie,” he complimented with a grin. “Don’t fall asleep in it, though, you’ll never want to wake up.”

“No promises,” Nadia replied cheekily, getting into the car. “Especially if you keep flirting with each other instead of getting us to school.”

The two fake-boyfriends pointedly didn’t look at each other as they got into the car as well. As soon as the car turned on, soft jazz began to play over the radio. By this point, Lance was used to it, but he still couldn’t help but wonder why Keith listened to _jazz_ of all things. He looked like a recovering MCR addict, or at least someone who listened to old rock records unironically.

“Keith?” Lance asked quietly, not wanting to break the sleepy silence but curious nonetheless. Keith hummed to show he was listening. “Why do you listen to jazz all the time?”

Keith was quiet for a long moment. “My parents liked getting into stupid arguments a lot,” he answered slowly. His expression and tone were carefully neutral. “I don’t know why, but it was one of their favorite past times. One of the things they were always fake-arguing over was music. My dad was really into classic rock like Lynyrd Skynyrd or Bruce Springsteen, but my mom liked classicals or instrumentals. It was always a competition to see who got to play DJ when we were in the car together.”

Almost against his will, Keith’s lips quirked up into a soft smile. “Every once in a while, though, they would put on jazz. It was the only kind of music they both liked, but they only played it on special occasions. Like if they were in the middle of a real argument, and one of them wanted to apologize, or if they just didn’t feel like fake-arguing, or if they just felt like dancing. And sometimes it would be silly dancing, just trying to get the other or me to laugh; other times they would just hold each other and just kind of sway to the beat. But it was always something special when they listened to jazz together.”

Nobody spoke for a while. Even Nadia, who usually had _something_ to say, was respectfully quiet. They were stopped at a traffic light, and Lance looked over at Keith to gauge his reaction, maybe find something to say. He was still smiling softly, and in the pale pink light of the sunrise, Lance knew there was no one more beautiful than Keith Kogane.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

For what, Lance wasn’t totally sure, but it seemed like Keith understood anyways. He smiled wider and began driving again, completely unaware of his own beauty and the wild fluttering of Lance’s heart. “No problem.”

 

Lance hadn’t really seen Lotor since his first party with Keith, but it was almost thematically appropriate that he decided to show his face again on a day typically associated with dark magic and demons. What was even more fitting was the fact that he’d dressed up as a demon himself, with tight, black clothing and a cheap headband with two tiny devil horns attached to it.

He was leaning against Lance’s locker, trying to look nonchalant as he scrolled through his phone, but Lance could see the way his eyes flickered up for just a second when he spotted Lance and Keith walking towards him. They stopped about a foot away, and Keith opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but Lance held up a hand.

Keith glanced at him, and Lance looked back, silently trying to say, _Don’t worry, I’ve got this._ Keith must’ve understood because he’d simply raised an eyebrow and stepped back.

Lance cleared his throat. When Lotor pretended not to hear, he said loudly, “Good morning, Lotor.”

Lotor looked up slowly, his eyes dragging up and down Lance’s costume. A thinly-veiled sneer twisted his lips. “Good morning. Oh, I’m loving the costume, Lance! A predatory stalker and murderer, nice choice.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance could see Keith stiffen, but he simply grabbed Keith’s hand and squeezed it soothingly. Lotor caught the motion, and Lance watched, amused, as he tried to keep from scowling. His eye twitched anyways.

“Yeah, well, it’s a shame you were too busy to dress up yourself this year,” Lance sighed, frowning sadly.

Lotor scoffed and smiled, showing off his fangs. “Actually, I _am_ dressed up,” he said slowly, like Lance was too dumb to grasp the concept.

Lance blinked innocently. “Oh really? But nothing’s changed. I thought you were always soulless and bloodsucking.”

Keith barked out a surprised laugh, and Lotor’s face twisted into an ugly, surprised scowl. He recovered after a moment and stalked off, pointedly knocking his shoulder into Lance’s. Keith was still cackling to himself when Lance opened his locker and carefully deposited his cloak, mask, and hat into it. It was a shame he couldn’t wear his full costume in class, but the school had strict rules about masks, and Lance didn’t want to risk damaging his cloak or hat in the crowded halls.

Grabbing his gym bag, Lance hooked his arm with Keith and led them down the hall, smiling widely. It felt good to not have to take Lotor’s shit, and if it made Keith laugh that much, that just made it all the better.

 

Keith had suggested going to the party, and Lance would have said no, but - as his _abuelo_ oh-so-kindly pointed out - the alternative would be watching a horror movie with his step-dad, Joaquín, and second-oldest brother, Marco. Considering Lance actually had to _sleep_ that night if he wanted to function the next morning during school and band practice, he politely declined.

Keith met him outside after Lance’s swim practice, his hair still wet from his post-training shower and costume back in place. It was a bit hellish to be wearing a dark suit after taking a warm shower, but Lance was managing.

“Hey,” Lance greeted, giving Keith a hug. There were only about two other people around, but it had become so normal to hold hands or hug or casually sit pressed up against each other that it was instinct for the both of them.

“Hey,” Keith chuckled, pulling back after a second and taking Lance’s backpack from him like the gentleman he was. “You ready for the party tonight?”

Lance sighed and nodded. “As I’ll ever be, I guess,” he mumbled. “Just… don’t expect me to get drunk again.”

“Don’t worry, this is actually a dry party,” Keith assured. “It’s just gonna be me and a couple of my friends and a couple volleyball players. None of us drink.”

Lance sighed and shook his head. “Okay, okay. Either way, I’m only drinking from the tap tonight.”

Keith chuckled. “Fair enough.”

They piled in Keith’s car, and Lance stole the AUX to play some traditional Halloween music. They sang along to “Thriller”, “Monster Mash”, “Werewolves of London”, and Lance belted out both parts of “Phantom of the Opera” as well as he could.

“You have a good voice,” Keith commented with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” Lance mumbled, blushing.

“…Your Christine impression leaves something to be desired, though,” he added after a moment.

He got a hard slap on the arm for that comment, but Keith just laughed it off.

 

On Thursday, Lance was surprised with an invitation to have dinner with Keith’s mom and brother Saturday night. He accepted without hesitation, but he was still nervous. He didn’t know much about Keith’s family, but he knew they were important to him. Lance hated to think that he’d disappoint Keith’s mom or brother, even if this was all fake.

It turns out he didn’t really need to worry. Mrs Kogane - Krolia, she insisted on being called - was tall and almost scary-looking, but after a couple of jokes, she’d warmed up to Lance and begun to smile. Lance could really see the resemblance between her and her son: tough nuts to crack, but when you managed it, they were sweet.

Lance couldn’t see the same resemblance between Keith and Shiro. He was built like a superhero where Keith and his mom were more slender and lithe. He smiled easily and made bad jokes along with Lance. According to Keith, he was only 26, but he had the exact same humor as Joaquín.

Kosmo seemed to take a liking to Lance almost immediately. He’d greeted Keith first, but as soon as he’d noticed Lance standing a bit nervously behind him, he’d immediately trotted over and demanded pets. Since then, he’d barely left Lance’s side or stopped whining every time Lance stopped touching him.

“So, now that you’ve met our little family, what can you tell us about yours, Lance?” Shiro asked between bites.

They’d settled down to eat a little while ago, just a simple dish of steak and homemade mashed potatoes, but it was delicious. Shiro and Lance were leading the conversation for the most part, though Krolia occasionally conducted a miniature interrogation and Keith added some snarky commentary whenever Lance said something ridiculous or dramatic. (So basically every minute or so.) Kosmo was sitting at Lance’s elbow, obviously trying to look cute in the hopes that Lance would give him some food.

Lance brightened at the mention of his family and hurriedly finished his mouthful of food. “It’s _huge_ , but thankfully most of my family lives out of country and not in our house.”

“Who lives in your house?” Krolia asked.

“Oh, well, my house is a lot smaller now than it was before because a lot of my older siblings have moved out. But when I was about six or so, it was my grandparents, my mom, and my four older siblings: Luis, Marco, Veronica, and Rachel. In that order. But now Luis is married, Marco moved out, and Veronica’s away at college. It’s just my grandparents, my mom, my dad, Rachel, and me. Luis’s kids, my niece and nephew, visit a lot, but for the most part, it’s just us.”

“Your dad?” Krolia asked curiously. “I thought it was just your mother…?”

“Er, well, _technically_ Joaquín is my _step_ -dad, but…”

Lance shrugged awkwardly. He didn’t really know how to put his feelings into words. Sure, he hadn’t really liked the idea of his mother getting with someone who might hurt her again, but Joaquín was patient and kind and hadn’t pushed Lance into liking him. He knew why Lance was wary and went out of his way to make sure Lance was comfortable with his and Rosa’s relationship.

Krolia nodded in understanding. Keith, Lance noticed, let out a small sigh, his shoulders relaxing slowly. When had he tensed up?

“Ah, I get it,” Krolia mumbled. “Do you visit your father often?”

Keith suddenly dropped his knife onto his plate with a loud clang that made everyone else jump a bit. “Mom, just drop it,” he barked, his shoulders a tense line.

Krolia looked like she was about to snap something back, but Shiro fixed her with a significant look, and she nodded stiffly, her mouth a thin line.

Conversation eventually picked back up on a much lighter topic when Shiro brought up the story of how he and Keith met. Apparently they weren’t _actual_ brothers, but when Keith had stolen Shiro’s bike, Shiro had taken the young boy under his wing and become a brother in everything but technicalities. Lance had laughed his ass off while Krolia had shaken her head and Keith had hid his face in his hands, groaning about how he wished he’d never met Shiro in the first place.

Lance also learned a bit more about Krolia. She’d met Keith’s father while working for the FBI on a serious arson case about twenty-three years ago.

“Rex was a fireman in one of the suburbs of Austin at the time, and his department was one of the ones we contacted for information about the fires,” Krolia explained, her mashed potatoes slowly growing cold on her plate. She didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were soft and slightly glazed over, lost in memories.

“He was so awkward,” she chuckled fondly. “I only really noticed him because he dropped a box on his foot when he first saw me.”

Lance laughed, and Keith smiled softly. He’d obviously heard the story a million times, but much like how Lance never tired of hearing the way Rosa and Joaquín had met, he didn’t seem to mind the retelling.

“We worked together closely for a few months, and I could tell he had feelings for me,” Krolia continued. “But he was too scared to do anything about it, so the evening before I was set to leave town for a new assignment, I showed up at his door in my nicest dress and demanded he take me out on a date. I found a way to prolong my stay, he eventually moved in with me, and a few years later, we got married and had this little terror.”

She reached over and ruffled Keith’s hair, and he swatted her away out of principle. They all shared a laugh, and Lance smiled softly to himself. To the outside world, Keith’s family might seem tiny and broken, but they obviously loved each other a lot.

He realized a bit belatedly that they were getting much too attached to him.

 

Krolia had tried insisting that she and Shiro do the dishes, but Keith and Lance had steadily worn them down until they were alone in the kitchen, loading up the dishwasher and talking in hushed voices as Shiro napped on the couch in the other room and Krolia finished up a bit of work in her study upstairs.

“This is the last of it,” Lance reported as he carefully placed a stack of plates in the sink to be rinsed off before Keith put them in the dishwasher.

“Thanks,” Keith said with a smile. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie to keep them dry, and Lance couldn’t help but stare at the corded muscles of his forearms.

They were quiet for a while, only the running water from the sink faucet making noise. “I’m sorry,” Keith said suddenly, pausing before he placed the last plate in the rack.

He looked up at Lance’s confused expression. “For my mom,” he explained with a grimace. “I tried to tell her to not bring up your… your dad, but—”

Lance shook his head. “No, don’t be,” he interrupted. “I don’t mind, seriously. Like… yeah, it hurts, but I’ve slowly begun to accept that it wasn’t my fault my birth dad ran off. And me and Joaquín are close, so I don’t mind just skipping formalities and calling him my dad. I might’ve met him pretty late in life, but…” He chuckled humorlessly. “He’s been more of a dad than my birth dad ever was.”

Keith hummed quietly. “I don’t really get it, but… It’s kind of similar to me and Shiro. He’s not _technically_ my brother - he’s got his own completely unrelated parents, and we met when I was a teen - but we both still call each other brother. To other people, that’s what we are. Brothers.”

Lance nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Exactly.”

They were quiet for a little while, even as Keith started the dishwasher and took a seat on the counter. After a while, Lance joined him, and they sat together, not saying anything, for a minute before Keith broke the silence again.

His voice was softer, this time, more vulnerable. “Can I say something a bit awful?” he asked hesitantly, glancing at Lance out of the corner of his eye.

Lance frowned but nodded. “Sure. I won’t judge you,” he promised.

Keith nodded but took a few seconds to speak. “It’s just… there are moments like tonight where I catch myself almost forgetting about my dad,” he admitted in a near whisper.

Lance’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say a thing. Keith paused again, uncertain.

“I almost forget about how it hasn’t always just been me and my mom and sometimes Shiro. My dad didn’t die all that long ago, and I still miss him, but in between those moments where it feels like his death is still so fresh, I find myself almost forgetting he was ever here. But then I’ll remember suddenly, and I feel terrible for ever forgetting, even if it was just for a couple of minutes.”

“That’s not awful,” Lance murmured, placing his hand on Keith’s.

Keith shook his head with a sigh. “Yeah, but I know Mom doesn’t feel the same way. She hasn’t even tried dating since Dad, and I don’t think she ever will. She still misses Dad so much, and here _I_ am, his own _son_ , forgetting about him!”

“But you’re not forgetting,” Lance interrupted quickly. He gently squeezed Keith’s hand until the other boy looked up at him. “You’re moving on. There’s a difference. It’s not _bad_ to move on. You’re allowed to mourn, but you’re also allowed to live your own life. Imagine how torn up your dad would be if you refused to ever move on.”

Keith grimaced but stayed quiet.

Lance sighed and moved a bit closer, putting his arm around Keith’s shoulder and pulling him into a side-hug. Keith immediately melted into it, placing his head on Lance’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“It’s hard to lose someone,” Lance continued quietly. “When my birth dad first left, I kept fooling myself into thinking he would come back. Then, when I realized he wasn’t, I began to think that it was somehow _my_ fault that he left. I thought I’d done something so horrible to drive him off, or maybe I was just so insufferable that he couldn’t stay. I still think that sometimes. And sometimes, in spite of everything he’s done, to me and my mom and my siblings and… just _everyone_ , I still miss him. He’s gone and living it up with his new family, but…” Lance shrugged the shoulder Keith wasn’t lying on. “I still wish he’d call or visit or _something_.”

“How?” Keith asked, not accusing but genuinely confused.

“You can miss someone and still be angry with someone,” Lance chuckled wryly. “It makes no sense, but here we are.”

Keith lifted his head and looked at Lance for a little bit, but Lance just closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You’re amazing,” Keith whispered, almost awed.

Lance finally looked at him and shook his head. “No. I’m just wise beyond my years.” He winked playfully.

Keith smiled, but he didn’t make a move to tease Lance like he usually would. “It’s nice to talk to someone about this,” he admitted softly. “I don’t typically tell Mom about this because bringing up Dad still sometimes seems painful for her. And I feel like I’ve already exhausted all of Shiro’s brotherly wisdom.”

They shared a laugh. “Well, I’m glad to help,” Lance murmured.

“You’re a good listener,” Keith murmured.

“Thanks. You are too.”

“Thanks.”

 

Later that night, as Lance was lying in bed, hovering on the edge of sleep, he realized that maybe it wasn’t just their families that were getting to invested in a fake relationship. Being with Keith was just too easy. Lance was beginning to let himself imagine what it would be like for this to be real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on a bus with some boys playing classic rock in the background, i probably haven't slept a full 8 hours in three days, i have to wake up way to goddamn early tomorrow morning, and my ass is numb, but here we are, one more chapter done! who's proud of me for not taking four months?
> 
> kudos/comments/etc. very much appreciated! love y'all!


	10. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor still won't give up, and Keith starts acting strange. If Lance didn't know any better, he'd say that Keith is feeling... jealous?

Lance loved Pidge, without question, but there were moments where he really disliked her. “Remind me again why we have to eat under the bleachers?” he asked, just barely ducking in time to miss smashing his head into one of the bars. He usually loved being tall, but there were moments like this where he wished he was as small and gremlin-like as Pidge.

“We can’t have this shit out in the open, are you kidding me?” she snorted. “Dr H would have our heads for eating something other than cafeteria food. God forbid we actually have _flavor_ in our food, we might start getting ideas about how terrible this school actually is!”

Lance rolled his eyes and found a nice spot of dead grass to settle on. It was still a bit too cold to be outside for lunch, but he wasn’t going to say no when Pidge suddenly decided to sneak him some outside food for lunch. It happened rarely, and when it did, he always thanked her profusely and did whatever she wanted so she would maybe do it again one day.

They didn’t talk much as they slowly worked their way through their food. Pidge had gotten McDonald’s that day, and Lance didn’t hesitate to order chicken nuggets and fries. He could feel his arteries threatening to close, but he just ignored it and kept eating. Heart failure was _future_ Lance’s problem.

Footsteps from above had them both freezing in place. Lotor’s voice drifted down to them, and they exchanged looks. “I just feel like we never _talk_ anymore,” he was saying. They heard him and the other person take a seat almost directly above them. “All you do is hang around and talk with _him_.”

It wasn’t hard for Lance to tell that Lotor was talking about him. Lotor’s voice only dripped with that level of venom when he was talking about somebody he really didn’t like. What surprised him a bit, though, was _Keith_ talking next.

“And what do you expect me to do?” he snapped, sounding angry. Lance could easily imagine his eyes narrowing, his lips twisted into a scowl. “Wait around for you like some fuckin’ _moron_ while you fool around with some college student?”

Lance swallowed quietly and leaned forward to whisper, “We should go, this sounds private.”

Pidge looked bewildered. “Lance, they’re talking about _you_! And it’s _your_ boyfriend!” she hissed.

“We’re not serious,” Lotor protested from above them. “He’s _nothing_ like you.” Lance felt vaguely sick as he listened to Lotor shift into a sickeningly-sweet purr and shift closer to Keith. He needed to get out of here.

Keith shifted away. “Because he’s not at your beck and call like _I_ was,” he snarled, but there was a hint of something else to his voice. His eyes were probably hard but filled with pain. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Lotor. I can’t let you.”

It was quiet for a moment. Lotor spoke up again, quieter but definitely more angry. “He’s not coming on the ski trip, right? He can’t. That’s _our_ thing, Keith.”

“Why does it _matter_?” Keith cried, standing up. Lotor stood too. “You’re dating someone else!”

Lotor seemed to flounder for words for a moment. “Well, yeah, maybe, but maybe by the time the ski trip comes around, I won’t.”

Keith muttered something too quiet for Lance to hear and began to walk quickly away. Lotor followed, calling after him, but when Lance chanced a look, Keith was already back inside and Lotor was throwing his arms up in the air and stalking off somewhere else.

Lance suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore, and he quickly began packing up his food. Pidge followed suit, but she wouldn’t relent. “Lotor is still trying to get Keith back!” she exclaimed. “Lance, aren’t you going to _do_ something about it?”

Lance didn’t speak as he finished shoving his McDonald’s bag back into his backpack and began to walk away. Pidge scrambled to follow, but he refused to talk until she dropped the subject and hesitantly asked after Hunk. Their conversation was short and stilted all the way to their next class.

 

Lance sought out Ryan during study hall barely an hour later. All it took was a quick text and they find each other in the science hallway, right in front of a cute diorama one of the elementary classes did.

Lance didn’t wait for the awkward greetings. “Look, I know you really don’t like talking about Keith, but I need someone to talk to about all of this or I’m going to explode,” he blurted.

Ryan stayed quiet and stared at the floor, and Lance bit his lip. He felt terrible about doing this to him, but he wasn’t lying. Every minute he was fake-dating Keith was amazing, but it was getting more and more painful as time went on.

“I love being with Keith,” he confessed quietly, “but it feels like that’s just going to make everything feel that much worse when he inevitably gets back with Lotor. And on top of all that, I’m so mad at myself for letting this happen because honestly? I should’ve seen this coming.”

Ryan sighed and finally looked up, but he studied the wall opposite him instead of meeting Lance’s eyes. “Yeah, maybe you should’ve,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t matter. You can’t change how you feel. Either way, it sucks. I’m sorry.”

He looked like he was about to say something else, but the bell rang and suddenly Keith was standing at the end of the hallway, an odd look on his face. “Lance!”

Ryan finally turned to Lance. “Want me to wait?” he asked, sounding resigned.

Lance shook his head and hesitated for just a moment before giving Ryan a quick hug. It was awkward and over too fast for Ryan to react, but he pulled away and shouldered his backpack. “Thanks for listening,” he whispered, smiling.

Ryan nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “No problem.”

Lance jogged over to Keith, and Keith didn’t waste a second before asking, “What the hell were you doing?”

“Talking to Ryan,” Lance mumbled, his face flushing. “It’s not a crime.”

“I know that, but what do you think people are gonna say when they see my boyfriend cosying up to Kinkade?” Keith snapped. Lance glanced at him and was unnerved by how upset and almost angry Keith seemed.

Lance felt himself getting a bit angry in return. And maybe it was jealousy or bitterness or just a long day of terrible emotions, but Lance retorted, “Probably the same thing they’re gonna say when they find out that you’re practically _begging_ Lotor to get back together on the bleachers.”

Keith paled, then scowled. “Are you _spying_ on me?” he asked, incredulous.

“Not intentionally!”

Lance sped up, trying to get away from Keith. They both knew Lance had AP Physics next, but he walked right past the door and kept on going. After a moment, Keith caught up with him.

“So I was talking to Lotor,” he growled, grabbing Lance’s arm to stop him. “So what? _You_ don’t even post about us on Instagram!”

Lance scowls and makes a show of taking Keith’s hand off his arm. “Because I don’t want my family to see!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Like _they’re_ gonna care, they love me!”

“Veronica still doesn’t know, asswipe!” Lance yelled, beginning to feel tears prick at his eyes.

He felt a few people beginning to stare and quickly walked into an empty hallway. Keith followed, thankfully. Spinning around, Lance hissed, “Look, neither of us thought that this was actually gonna last very long. But it has, and now everything’s worked out. Lotor’s officially jealous, me and Ryan are somewhat okay, and I think it’s time for us to call it.”

Something flashes in Keith’s eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for Lance to tell what it is. He scowls stubbornly. “I can’t believe you’re trying to break up before the ski trip. That’s in the contract, Lance!”

“Yeah, only if we’re still together!”

“We _are_ still together!” He paused, then narrowed his eyes. “You’re trying to pull out because you’re scared.”

Lance’s competitive streak answered before he could think. “I’m not scared! That’s ridiculous! What do I even have to be scared of?”

Keith seemed to lose all his fight after a second. Sighing, he threw up his hands. “I don’t know. You tell me, McClain.”

But the problem was that Lance _couldn’t_. How could he? Keith didn’t feel the same way, and Lance would rather _die_ than admit that he was starting to have genuine feelings for his fake-boyfriend. The only thing he could think to do was deflect.

“I’ll go if Pidge goes.”

It worked. All Keith could do was blink and stammer, “Uh, okay.”

 

They day passed almost smoothly after that. Lance ended up being a bit late to Physics, but Mr Ulaz was cool and let him get away with just a verbal slap on the wrist. World History and English seemed to take forever, but by the end of the day, Keith seemed to be trying to pretend that they’d never had an argument. Lance was all too eager to play along, and they parted ways that evening with polite goodbyes and a small hug to keep Nadia from realizing something was up.

He’d almost fooled himself into thinking that he didn’t have to go on the ski trip anymore when Pidge walked in like she owned the place and jumped onto Lance’s bed. Ignoring his small shriek of surprise, she asked, “You wanna tell me why your precious emo boyfriend is nagging me about going on the ski trip? I don’t _do_ school functions, especially not ones that aren’t really school functions and are in reality just planned out and executed by a bunch of horny teenagers.”

Lance slowly let his hand fall from his chest and smiled. “That’s _exactly_ why I told him I’d only go if you went too. Now, because you don’t want to go, I don’t have to!”

Pidge sat up suddenly. “What?!” she cried. “You _have_ to go! You heard what Lotor said on the bleachers today, he’s gonna make a move if you’re not there to stop him!”

Lance scowled and rearranged his blankets so he was half-wrapped in a little cocoon. “So _let_ him,” he grumbled. “I’m sick and tired of having his weird snake eyes following my every move.”

“No!” Pidge yelled, suddenly furious. “That’s bullshit! Lotor gets whatever he wants, but not today!” She crossed her arms defiantly. “I’ll make _sure_ you get Keith. I’m coming on that trip, regardless of my own personal hatred of pseudo school functions and our idiotic classmates.”

“You know, you shouldn’t use _me_ to get back at Lotor,” he snapped.

Pidge kicked him in the leg. “It’s not just that, asshole.” She sighed and flopped down next to Lance, getting under the covers and meeting his pout with an oddly soft look. “You and Keith are good together. You make each other happy. I don’t want you to lose that because you’re afraid of Lotor or whatever this is.”

“I’m not _afraid_ of Lotor,” Lance grumbled. “I just--”

“Listen to your friend, _mijo_ ,” a voice suddenly interrupted. Lance and Pidge shot upright, and there was a slightly guilty-looking Joaquín holding a basket of laundry. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear.”

He came inside, and Lance shifted so he could put the laundry basket down and sit down next to him. Squeezing Lance’s shoulder, he continued, “I haven’t seen you have so much fun this year or make so many new friends. Not that you haven’t had any before, but you’ve really branched out. No longer is it only your fellow band and science geeks. I’m finally seeing some diversity in your friend group!”

Lance laughed. “You’re just happy I’m finally hanging around some _fútbol_ players.”

Joaquín shrugged, smiling. “What can I say? I’ve always hoped my love of it would rub off on you, but if it takes you getting friendly with the jocks... _Bien está lo que bien acaba.”_

“Did you just quote Shakespeare in Spanish?” Pidge asked, looking a bit impressed.

“It’s a fun saying!”

Lance rolled his eyes and lightly shoved Joaquín’s leg. “Just go put away the laundry, old man.”

_“Simplemente estás celoso.”_

Lance cackled. _“Por qué estaría celoso?”_

_“Yo doblo la ropa mejor que tú,”_ Joaquín retorted, jumping off the bed and picking up the laundry before Lance could shove him off. He laughed as he dodged a stuffed animal, and soon Pidge and Lance were alone again, the door closed behind Joaquín for some much-needed privacy.

“Suddenly I understand why you like him so much,” Pidge snickered. “He’s basically just an older, Mexican version of you.”

Pidge apparently didn’t have Joaquín’s good sense and fell on the floor with a loud thump and an impressive string of curses.

 

After watching a couple bad paranormal shows that still leave Lance a bit anxious even as Pidge snorts and debunks most of the “evidence”, Pidge left. Lance had been looking forward to hanging out with Nadia and Sylvio that night since Luis and Lisa were having a date night, but Marco surprised them all by stepping in and saying _he_ would babysit them for the night.

So Lance settled in for a lazy night at home watching funny movies by himself because Joaquín kept sending him knowing looks and Rachel was in the middle of a creative frenzy and had locked herself in her room to finish writing an essay for her anatomy class. It was a bit lonely, but Lance broke out his expensive Korean face mask and body lotion and spent most of the night luxuriating and trying to stay quiet so he wouldn’t incur the wrath of a stressed nursing student.

He was in the middle of watching _Shrek 2_ when he got a text from Keith.

_Pidge just told me that she’s up for going on the ski trip._

Lance sighed and felt some of his good mood slip away. Pausing the movie, he replied, _yeah she told me earlier she was gonna go_

Keith didn’t reply straight away, and without the three little dots to tell Lance whether or not he was typing, Lance shrugged and played the movie again, trying to put it out of his mind.

His phone had other plans and buzzed a few minutes later.

_I’m sorry._

Lance frowned. _for what?_

_Pressuring you into doing this.  
You don’t actually have to go if you don’t want to._

Ugh, how _dare_ he be so apologetic and considerate of Lance’s feelings! It was unfair!

_no it’s fine_  
i’m just a bit nervous because it’ll be the first time i ever go  
dunno what to expect 

_That’s fair, but it’ll be okay._  
Pidge and I will both be there, remember?  
I even heard that Allura and her girlfriend Romelle will be coming too. 

_ooo i could bring face-masks for us all!!  
have a nice spa night after a long day out on the slopes_

_As long as you promise not to use any with snail slime in them.  
I’ll put up with a lot but not that._

_ew god no i’d NEVER use something gross like that_  
just some regular old clay or charcoal ones for me, thanks  
don’t think i won’t find a way to paint your nails, either 

_I have a feeling that even if I say no, you’ll find a way to do it._

_ah you know me too well ;)_

_Yeah, I do. :)  
Anyways, good night, Lance. Sleep well._

_see you in the morning! <3_

Lance realized too late that he’d sent the heart emoji, but before he could find a good excuse and laugh it off, his phone had buzzed Keith’s reply.

_< 3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update! i'm not going to say get used to it because it'll be just my luck that i jinx it and then go on another unplanned hiatus. either way, i'm hoping to finish this soon because i don't know how hectic my summer is gonna be. don't worry, i'm just as pumped as ever about this fic, but i get random bursts of inspiration and get burnt out just a couple hours of later. life is fun like that.
> 
> kudos/comments/suggestions/etc. are much appreciated! i used google translate again this chapter, and though i tried my best to make sure it was accurate, there's still a very high chance i got it wrong. if i did, don't hesitate to tell me and maybe suggest how to make it better. thanks! :)


	11. Time Flies But Anxiety Lingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a Thanksgiving spent in Cuba, Keith and Lance go on a surprise date, but things are far from perfect. Even as Lance prays it doesn't, the day of the ski trip finally dawns.

November flew by much too fast for Lance’s enjoyment. It seemed like only a week passed after his and Keith’s ski trip argument before Lance has to go around to all his teachers and get a vacation form signed so he could leave on Thanksgiving break two days early.

Still, he was happy, in a way. He’d been wanting to see his family in Cuba for Thanksgiving for months ever since the trip was announced. What wasn’t so great, though, was having to be radio silent for almost a whole week. International plans were too expensive to buy for the whole family, so Lance would have to deal with FaceTiming Keith and sending Pidge messages from Discord.

Spending time in Cuba was exactly what Lance needed. He got to relax and laze around and spend time with all his cousins and relatives he never got to see. Speaking purely Spanish was more refreshing than words could really say, even if he felt bad when he really got going and Joaquín or Lisa couldn’t really understand him anymore. He snapped so many pictures of him with his family and of the beach that he probably annoyed all his Snapchat and Instagram followers to no end, but he didn’t care. The last time he’d been in Cuba was two summers ago, and there was no way in hell he wasn’t commemorating every single minute of it.

Keith was waiting for him at the airport when he got back. He’d brought a sign that said “Lance McClain” on it so he stood out better. Lance felt a bit of his soul leave his body at the sight of Keith’s smile and let himself melt into the hug he was offered.

“You look different,” was the first thing Keith said to him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to sound playfully defensive but failing miserably. Keith’s smile was just too sincere.

“More freckles,” Keith said, like that explained everything. His face was red, but from what, Lance didn’t know. “You’re smiling more.”

Lance laughed lightly. “Yeah, well, it was really sunny in Cuba, despite it being _way_ too cold to swim. And I got to see pretty much my whole family for the first time in more than a year. Of course I’m happy.”

Keith chuckled and held out a hand. “Here, lemme help you with your bags.”

“Ooo, what a gentleman,” Lance swooned, passing over his suitcase.

“I try.”

Lance began to walk away only to catch Joaquín’s eye. He didn’t even smile, just raised an eyebrow, but that was all it took for Lance’s face to go bright red. It was too hard to pretend that he wasn’t flustered by Keith’s sudden appearance. How had he even known what time Lance’s flight touched down?

His phone buzzed with a text. It was from Pidge. _ur welc_ was all it said.

_for what??_ he sent back.

_ask queef how he knew to be at the airport_

Lance looked up and asked, “Hey, how’d you know when I’d be here?”

Keith glanced back. “Oh, I asked Pidge. She looked up some flights and managed to narrow it down. I don’t know how, but…” He shrugged. “It seemed stupid to ask her how.”

“Smart man,” Lance chuckled.

_thanks_

_np my dude_

They ended up going to a late dinner with Keith in tow. It was the first time Keith had ever been in front of his whole family - sans Veronica, of course, because she (thankfully) hadn’t been able to come - and Lance was a bit nervous about it. Not that he was worried Keith would embarrass him or anything, but he knew that Keith took a little while to warm up to new people, and big social settings where he was basically the center of attention made him nervous.

But Keith handled it well, in Lance’s opinion. He answered everybody’s questions with ease and even got to know Sylvio a bit better. By the end of the night, Lance was convinced he’d charmed the pants off of Lance’s whole family, and Keith seemed remarkably happy.

While Lance’s family struggled to pile into the van they’d borrowed from a family friend to transport their luggage to and from the airport, Lance walked with Keith to his car.

“Thanks for coming,” Lance said, smiling softly. It was chilly, but he barely noticed. His chest and face felt like they were burning. “You didn’t have to.”

Keith smiled back, showing off his sharper-than-average canine teeth. It was unfair how attractive he looked in combat boots, dark jeans, letterman jacket, and red beanie. His fingerless gloves weren’t doing much to ward off the winter chill, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I know I didn’t,” he said. “I _wanted_ to. I kinda missed your dumb memes while you were gone.”

Lance gasped, pressing a gloved hand to his chest. “How _dare_ you insinuate my memes are dumb!”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything. I was telling you flat-out.”

Lance shakes his head. “How are we friends?”

Keith taps his chin, pretending to think. “I think it was because you accidentally sent me a love letter from seventh grade.”

Lance flushed. “That wasn’t me! I _still_ haven’t figured out who did that,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. He was beginning to feel his toes go numb, but he didn’t make any move to leave.

Keith chuckled, warm and deep. Suddenly Lance had trouble focusing on his cold toes. “Well, whoever it was, I’m kind of glad they did.” His eyes were much too fond. “It gave me the push I finally needed to get to know you.”

Lance swallowed thickly. “Y-yeah,” he mumbled.

They stood in silence for a couple moments, just staring at each other and smiling. “I missed you,” Keith whispered suddenly. “But I’m glad you had fun in Cuba.”

“Me too,” Lance said. “To both those things. It kind of sucked, not listening to jazz all the time when I’m with you.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “And here I was trying to be sincere.”

“Kidding, kidding! But yeah, I missed you too. Thanks again for coming to dinner with us. How was Thanksgiving with your family?”

“It was nice. We went over to Shiro’s parent’s house and had a blast with them. You?”

Lance laughed and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. “Hectic, but that’s to be expected with a family as big as ours. Hunk finally managed to get one of the old family recipes out of my great-aunt, and he’s gonna Skype with me tomorrow to tell me how it turned out.”

Keith chuckled. “Right. Well, you’re looking really cold, and your family is beginning to stare, so... Night, Lance.”

He waved and turned back to his car. He opened the door and was about to step in when Lance blurted, “W-wait!”

He turned back, eyes a bit wide with surprise. Lance swallowed nervously and closed the distance between them. Keith’s face quickly turned red, and his beautiful eyes widened even more. From this close, it was easy to see how they’d turned a bit purple.

Lance kissed Keith’s cheek before he could think better of it. “I’m really glad to be back,” he whispered.

He offered Keith one last smile and a small wave before practically running to his family’s van. The knowing looks made him groan, but he couldn’t help but crane his neck to try and see Keith through the windows. It took almost a full minute for him to reboot and slowly get into the car, still looking dumbstruck. If Lance’s eyes weren’t fooling him, though, he was smiling a little and pressed his hand to his cheek as the McClain family van pulled out of the parking lot and drove off.

The week after Thanksgiving marked the last game of the football season. Lance wasn’t ashamed to say that he bawled like a baby and felt a little part of himself die as he realized he wasn’t going to be marching with the Marching Lions ever again. As tempting as it was to flunk senior year and get one more year of being with them, he needed to move on.

Keith ended up staying the night with him. They were supposed to just watch a couple of movies and part ways, but Keith was a lot more tired than they’d thought and ended up falling asleep on the couch. Lance had wanted to wake him up, but one look at Keith’s sleeping face, and he’d melted. Sighing quietly, he’d brushed some hair away from Keith’s forehead and kissed it tenderly. Keith made a soft noise and smiled in his sleep, and Lance curled up into his side before he could think better of it, ears burning.

Sometime during the night, he’d fallen asleep too, and when they woke up the next day, Lance was lying almost on top of Keith, cradled in his arm and ear positioned right above his heart. If he listened closely enough, he could hear its slow, steady beat. It didn’t take long for him to drift off again, ignoring the slight aches in his body and just enjoying Keith’s warmth.

The peace was shattered a little when Lance’s family woke up, and Rosa woke them up to ask if they wanted chocolate chips in their pancakes. Lance would’ve pouted at the interruption if he wasn’t also greeted with the sight of Keith stifling a yawn and heard his deep, slightly-raspy voice politely asking if he could have a chocolate chip waffle instead.

Rosa gave Lance a knowing look when he couldn’t answer her question right away. Keith was too busy looking adorable to even notice.

The atmosphere of December was one of Lance’s favorite things about the month. Even people who weren’t particularly religious, like Keith and his family, or people who didn’t celebrate Christmas couldn’t help but feel a bit of that Christmas anticipation. For the people at Voltron High, though, that feeling was doubled because the ski trip was closing in fast, and everybody except for Lance and Pidge were excited for it.

It turned out that Allura and Romelle _were_ coming, but that didn’t make Lance feel much better. So he had another two best friends coming with him, but that didn’t make his anxiety go away. He had so many questions and concerns: who was he going to sit next to on the bus? If he ended up sitting next to Keith, would he be able to keep his feelings to himself or would he mess up somehow? Was Lotor really going to try something on the trip? Who was going to teach Lance to ski? How cold was winter in Pennsylvania? What would happen if Lance broke his ankle or something on the slopes?

He spilled all his worries to Hunk, but the big man didn’t have much to say. As a worrier himself, it was hard for him to tell Lance that everything was going to be just fine. The best he could offer was to Skype him as often as possible and send him a care package. It was better than nothing.

Veronica tried calling him again, but he let the call ring out without answering it, and she didn’t try again or even leave a message. The guilt was eating him up inside, but he still couldn’t find a way to explain why he’d been ignoring her since she’d left without lying to her face and immediately being found out and guilt-tripped into telling her the truth. He cried himself to sleep one night when the anxiety and guilt got to be too much, but if his family heard it, they never mentioned it.

It felt like the ski trip would make or break Lance, and it was becoming more and more obvious that it would absolutely _crush_ him.

In spite of all of Lance’s prayers, the ski trip crept closer and closer until it was the night before, and he was stuffing the last pair of boxers into his suitcase. He’d felt nervous all day, a sense of impending doom hanging over him and dampening any attempt to fake happiness. Everyone noticed, but they all took it different ways. His family thought he was just nervous about the infamous ski trip, Pidge thought he was upset about Lotor trying to make a move, and Keith thought Lance was having second thoughts about going. He was, but not for the reasons Keith thought.

It seemed to take forever for him to fall asleep, and even when he finally did, he didn’t sleep very well. It seemed like he’d been asleep for maybe an hour before his alarm went off at five-thirty, screeching until he managed to turn it off and get up.

He got to school at about six, Rosa being the one to drive him. The sky was dark and soft music played over the radio, but despite the seemingly relaxed atmosphere, Lance couldn’t stop jiggling his leg. If Rosa noticed, she didn’t comment, and for that, Lance was grateful. His mother had always been a bit nosy, but she knew when her youngest son didn’t want to be questioned. They’d always been close, so she probably figured Lance would come to her when he needed the help.

She was right, but that day was not today. Maybe it would be after the ski trip, when Keith would most likely break his heart and get back together with Lotor, and Lance would have to nurse his wounds and pretend he wasn’t so torn up about it.

Maybe she could help him figure out what to say with Veronica. Lance was missing her terribly. If anyone would know what to do to woo Keith and make him Lance’s _real_ boyfriend (and maybe get revenge on Lotor while he was at it), it would be her. Assuming, of course, she ever agreed to talk to Lance ever again.

It felt like seconds after getting into the car, they were pulling to a stop in front of the school. The two coach buses they were taking were already parked around the corner of the building, and Lance could see students swarming around them, putting their luggage on as quickly as possible and claiming seats.

“So,” Rosa began, turning to look at Lance with a soft smile. “Have fun.”

Lance nodded, avoiding her gaze as he fiddled with his seatbelt. “Yeah. Will do.”

“Send me lots of pictures. And call every night, okay?”

Lance nodded.

Rosa smirked and reached back into the back seat. “And speaking of having fun... We need to have a bit of a talk.”

Lance froze and looked up in time for Rosa to pull out a manilla envelope. “No,” he whispered pleadingly. “Please, Mom, _no_.”

“As your mother, I of course think that you’re too young to have sex,” Rosa continued, ignoring him. “Sex is a precious gift to be shared with the person you love the most after proclaiming your love to God.”

Lance nodded, his face bright red. “Yes, yes, it is, I wholeheartedly agree, can we _please_ stop talking about this.”

“But I know that it can be tempting to have sex before then. You’re a very smart boy, Leandro, and I would never _ever_ hate you if you had sex before marriage. No one in our family would.”

Lance covered his eyes and nodded. He wanted to die. Could God strike him down right the hell now? That would be _fantastic_ , thanks.

“Ultimately, though, it’s your decision, and I respect that. But I want you to be safe.” She held out the envelope. “Here. Promise me that if you decide to have sex, you’ll at least use these. You and Keith might both be boys, but just because you don’t have to worry about pregnancy doesn’t mean you don’t have to worry about other things.”

Lance took the envelope hesitantly and peered inside. A handful of condoms and two bottles of lube greeted him. He felt a small, inhuman noise rise out of his throat. “Oh my god,” he whispered, horrified.

Rosa nodded sagely. “Exactly. Think of the Lord and what He would want you to do.”

“I’m... I’m leaving,” Lance announced, opening the door and getting out as fast as he could. He shoved the envelope into his carry-on and grabbed his bag. _“Que mierda…”_

“Language,” Rosa scolded, but it was half-hearted. “Anyways, have fun!”

Lance scowled. “Yes, I have a lot of condoms and lube for that purpose exclusively,” he grumbled.

Rosa laughed and waved. _“Te amo!”_

Lance sighed and shook his head. _“También te amo. Hasta pronto, Mamá.”_

He shut the door and began walking towards the bus. It was cold but thankfully not very windy, so Lance shivered a bit and buried his nose in the handmade scarf his mother had made him ages ago. It didn’t take long to situate his luggage in the bottom hold of the second bus and check in, and Lance felt his heart climb into his throat as he got on. Moment of truth.

His eyes found Keith’s almost immediately. He looked annoyingly awake and perfect, and he smiled softly when he caught sight of Lance. As Lance slowly made his way towards him, he stood as well as he was able to. “Good morning,” he said. “I know I kind of already claimed the window seat, but we could switch at the next rest stop if you want.”

Lance bit his lip and looked for an out. He found it in Pidge, sitting towards the back of the bus, fast asleep and all alone. Looking back at Keith, he smiled nervously. “Actually, I was gonna sit with Pidge.”

Keith’s eyes flashed with something that almost looked like hurt. “What?” he asked. Following Lance’s glance, he scowled. “She’s dead to the world. I saw on her Snap story, she was up all night playing an Overwatch tournament. Let her sleep.”

“I... All the more reason to sit with her,” Lance mumbled, already taking a step back. “Don’t want her falling over and hitting her head or something.”

He turned quickly and went to sit down next to Pidge. Barely a second later, Lotor came on the bus and made a beeline for Keith. “This seat taken?” he asked slyly.

Keith glanced back at Lance before scowling and muttering, “No.”

Lotor met Lance’s eyes and smirked as he sat down next to Keith.

Lance felt sick and turned to Pidge. “This was a mistake,” he hissed.

She smacked him in the face and peeled open an eye when he yelped. “No kidding,” she growled. “It should be illegal to be up before 7. Now shut the fuck up and let me use you as a pillow. I’m napping the whole way.”

Lance sighed but didn’t protest as she snuggled up into his side and fell right back asleep. He carefully pulled his headphones out of his bag and put on some music, trying and failing not to stare at Keith and Lotor. His nausea only got worse as “Best Friend” by Rex Orange County began to play.

_“I shoulda stayed at home_  
_Cause right now I see all these people that love me_  
_But I still feel alone_  
_Can’t help but check my phone_  
_I coulda made you mine_  
_But no it wasn’t meant to be and see, I wasn’t made for you_  
_And you weren’t made for me_  
_Though it seems so easy…”_

Lance sighed and closed his eyes. How appropriate.

_“...I say that I’m happy_  
_I say that I’m happy_  
_But no no no no_  
_No no no oh_  
_I still wanna be your favorite boy_  
_I wanna be the one that makes your day_  
_The one you think about as you lie awake!_  
_And I can’t wait to be your number_  
_Your number one_  
_I’ll be your biggest fan_  
_And you’ll be mine_  
_But I still wanna break your heart_  
_And make you cry!_

_I still wanna be your favorite boy_  
_I wanna be the one_  
_I might just be the one...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: ["Best Friend"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqBuXQLR4Y8) by Rex Orange County
> 
> who's proud of me for managing to write three full chapters in one day because i certainly am! chapter 12 is already done and formatted, but i'm gonna wait a couple of days before posting it so i have a bit of time to finish chapter 13
> 
> kudos/comments/reviews/etc are much appreciated :)


	12. Waiting, Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance tries his best to keep avoiding Keith, but after spilling his guts to a pair of lesbians, he realizes that maybe he was wrong about Keith's feelings for him. There's no way he's waiting in the hot tub, though, right...?

The bus ride took about fourteen hours, including stops, and it was a relief when they finally made it to the lodge. Even Lance, who was dreading what the rooming situation would be, couldn’t help but smile as he stood on sore legs and walked out into the bitter cold of Middle-of-Nowhere, Pennsylvania where the ski resort made its home.

Pidge didn’t share his enthusiasm. “Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, it’s fuckin’ cold,” she hissed. She looked less like a person and more like a walking, talking ad for winter wear. How she could see with her hat pulled down so low and her scarf covering most of her face, he wasn’t sure.

Lance shivered and nodded in agreement. It wasn’t a particularly long walk from the bus to the warmth of the lobby of the hotel part of the resort, but it was long enough to make it seem like every inch of skin was now covered in goosebumps. He was glad he’d packed lots of clothes, even if he wasn’t going to be doing much skiing.

The warmth of the lobby was much appreciated, and Lance slowly began removing his hat and scarf. Pidge at least pulled the scarf down so Lance could see the unhappy set of her mouth as they gathered around the massive fireplace and waited for the student chaperones to tell them what to do next. After a quick head count, Nadia Rizavi stood on the coffee table and whistled loudly for everybody’s attention. Pidge jerked awake and glared at her, but Rizavi didn’t notice.

“Alright, so _technically_ we’re supposed to make sure that everybody stays in their assigned rooms, but where’s the fun in that?” she laughed. “So figure it out, sluts!” She tossed a bundle of keycards into the air, and the crowd surged forward with a cheer.

“I’ll get us one,” Lance sighed, going to set down his backpack.

Pidge held up a hand. “No,” she growled. “This one’s all me.” Cracking her knuckles, she disappeared into the crowd.

It was like watching an alligator attack a group of helpless ducklings: horrifying, but Lance couldn’t look away from the carnage. Pidge kicked, elbowed, slapped, and even, at one point, _bit_ her way to the center of the crowd and emerged a few seconds later with two keycards held proudly in her fingers. “Leggo.”

Lance didn’t feel like arguing and nodded. Before they could leave, though, Lotor said, too loud to be anything but purposefully, “I’ll see you on the black diamond tomorrow, right Keith? Last one down owes the other one a hot toddy.”

Lance couldn’t help but look at Keith still standing by the fireplace, and Keith stared right back, expression pained but hard to read otherwise. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but he cut himself off with a scowl and stalked away. A couple of his friends followed, laughing amongst themselves and seemingly completely oblivious to the whole interaction. Lotor didn’t look as smug as before, but he still flipped his hair and led his gaggle of friends up to their rooms.

A sharp pain in his side had Lance yelping and looking back at Pidge. “What are you _doing_?” she cried. “Go get your man!”

Lance shook his head and shouldered his bag. “It doesn’t matter either way. I can’t go down a black diamond, I don’t even know how to put on the boots!”

Pidge followed him as he made his way towards the elevator, cursing his long legs and cowardice. “So ask _Keith_!” she practically shouted. “What else are boyfriends good for?”

Lance didn’t reply and jabbed the button to call the elevator a bit harder than he needed to. Pidge groaned. “So if you’re not gonna ski than what _are_ you going to be doing this whole time?”

Instead of replying, Lance placed his backpack down on the ground and pulled out a novel. Pidge took one look at the pointlessly shirtless man on the front cover and groaned. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you.”

“Can’t believe who?” a peppy, British voice asked from behind them. They looked over and sure enough, Romelle and Allura were standing behind them, holding their luggage and also somehow each other’s hands.

“Lance!” Pidge cried, gesturing towards him. She snatched the book out of his hand and held it up, ignoring his protests. “He’s going to be _reading_ the whole time.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” Lance snapped, snatching his book back from her and shoving it in the bag. He tried to ignore the envelope his mother gave him even as it brushed up against his hand. “You’re probably going to go down exactly _one_ ski slope to tell Matt that you did and then spend the rest of the time cooped up in your room hacking into the FBI or making an AI or something geeky like that.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m gonna _try_ one of the slopes,” Pidge retorted. The elevator dinged, and they all piled on. “Are _you_?”

“No, because for as pretty as this place is, I don’t do well with the cold.”

“Preach,” Allura sighed. “I’m going to be staying inside and working on my commencement speech. And maybe my book.”

Lance perked up. “You’re writing a book? What about?”

“Time travel,” Allura said proudly. “Basically all the greatest historical what-ifs. What if America hadn’t dropped the second atomic bomb and forced Japan to surrender? What if Archduke Ferdinand had never been shot? What if the Confederacy had won the Civil War? All that stuff.”

Lance deflated. “Eh, I’ll pass. History isn’t really my jam, you know? Like, sure it’s cool and all that, but…” He shrugged.

Allura nodded. “That’s fair. Anyways, want to hang out with us?”

Lance grinned. “Sure! I have Korean face masks.”

Allura and Romelle’s eyes sparkled at the promise of expensive skin care, but Pidge just shook her head and muttered, “I can’t believe you guys.”

 

Lance, Allura, and Romelle agreed that they would save the face masks for the next night since they were all exhausted after the hours-long bus ride up to the ski resort. Bidding each other goodnight, Lance and Pidge split off to find their room on the third floor of the hotel.

The hotel room wasn’t particularly fancy, just a bathroom, two queen-sized beds, a desk, a TV, and a mini-fridge that Lance immediately began to fill with all the chocolate he’d packed in his carry-on. Pidge pulled out her laptop right away and began to type, but Lance took a quick shower and changed into his pajamas. She was still typing when he came out of the bathroom in a puff of steam.

“Are you gonna be on that all night?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to read what was on the screen. Whatever it was, he couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“Just until I finish this sequence,” Pidge muttered, not even bothering to shove him away. Damn, she was really into it, then.

Lance rolled his eyes. “So that’s a yes. Got it. Just… type quieter?”

Pidge flipped him off briefly, but he noticed her keystrokes softening. That would have to do for now. Hopefully she _would_ be going to bed soon because Lance did _not_ want to have to deal with a sleep-deprived Pidge in the morning. He knew she was a bit of a heavy sleeper, but he didn’t want to push his luck tomorrow morning while getting ready.

Lance climbed into his bed and clicked off the light. Except for the dim glow of Pidge’s laptop across the room, it was completely dark. On a whim, Lance pulled his phone off the nightstand and checked it for notifications. Nothing. Keith hadn’t attempted to talk to him all day, either in person or over text. He shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Sighing, Lance placed his phone back on the nightstand and rolled onto his stomach, loosely cradling his pillows. He felt cold, but it definitely wasn’t from the actual temperature: the room was set to seventy degrees, Lance was wearing his winter pajamas, _and_ the blankets were extra thick and layered. But still the chill persisted, and Lance realized after a moment that it was coming from his chest, not his skin.

He turned onto his side and rubbed his heart. God, he missed Keith. This ski trip was a terrible idea. Why couldn’t he have just told Pidge the truth and convinced her to not come so he wouldn’t have to either?

He missed Veronica too. She’d know what to do, even if she wasn’t always the best with advice. At the very least, she’d be able to cheer Lance up. She was awesome like that.

Tears pricked at Lance’s eyes, but he wiped them away quickly and turned back onto his stomach. There was no use crying. It would do nothing more than make Pidge uncomfortable and his face blotchy. He just needed to get through this stupid trip. Then everything would be over. Keith would get Lotor back, and Lance would do everything in his power to get over him.

The thought didn’t comfort him, but it sobered him enough to stop tearing up and go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

 

Tomorrow was not better. Lance woke up at nine in the morning and only bothered to brush his teeth and put on slippers before stumbling down to breakfast. At a place as fancy as this, it didn’t come free, but Rosa had given him money to pay for it. Pidge was nowhere to be seen, either in their room or down at breakfast, so Lance assumed that she’d gone to sleep soon after him and woken up early (for her) to hit the slopes.

Allura and Romelle joined him halfway through his stack of pancakes, groggy but cheerful. Romelle had one of the worst cases of bedhead Lance had ever seen, but he stifled his laugh and asked how they’d slept.

“Like a rock,” Allura said, smiling. “Even through Romelle’s snores.”

Romelle flushed. “It’s not _my_ fault I have allergies!”

“Allergies make you snore?” Lance asked.

She shrugged. “That’s what the doctor says. My throat swells up a tiny bit when I’m around cat hair, and Lura here owns five.”

Allura smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I thought I had lint-rolled my clothes well enough.”

Romelle smiled and pecked her nose. “It’s fine. But your punishment is dealing with my snoring.”

Lance’s heart panged at the simple show of PDA and shoved some pancake into his mouth to distract himself.

 

He didn’t see Keith all day, but a simple stalking of his Instagram showed a couple beautiful shots of the snow and the mountain they were on. He liked them all but refrained from commenting. He didn’t know if Keith was mad at him, and he didn’t want to risk provoking him by saying something like “wow, great view!”

The day passed slowly, but Lance had several good books and a shopping trip to the nearby resort town to keep him occupied. He bought a shirt with the ski resort’s logo on it just to assure his parents that he’d gotten a souvenir and spent several hours in a little bookshop tucked between a coffee shop and pet supply shop. Allura and Romelle were happy to tag along, even if Romelle didn’t share Allura and Lance’s enthusiasm for books.

Still, she got back at them by dragging them into a boutique and trying on outfit after outfit. Lance ended up trying on a few things as well and jokingly modeled for Allura and Romelle as they took pictures and quietly cheered for him. Romelle left the shop with several bags of clothes, but Lance was content to only leave with a handmade, navy blue turtleneck with shoulder cutouts and a pair of slippers made to look like miniature blue lions.

An hour or so after dinner and after Pidge had left to watch a horror movie with Keith - no, Lance’s heart did _not_ thud painfully at the mention of Keith’s name, nor did he bite his tongue so he wouldn’t ask Pidge to tell Keith he said hi and that he missed him - Lance, Romelle, and Allura settled in to watch romcoms and use Lance’s face masks. They got exactly fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds in before Lance broke and told them the whole story behind his and Keith’s relationship.

“So you guys have been faking it the whole time?” Romelle asked as she peeled off her mask.

Lance nodded. “Yep. And you guys have to _promise_ you won’t tell anyone about this.”

“We promise,” they chorused solemnly.

“Thanks,” Lance sighed, smiling at them. He peeled off the last part of his face mask and tossed it in the garbage. He felt leagues better, and not just because he’d done a super-expensive face mask. It felt good to tell the truth to someone, even if it was technically against the contract he and Keith had made.

He felt his mood sour. The contract. What had he been thinking, agreeing to the ski trip on that damn thing?! Sure, he hadn’t seriously thought that they’d still be doing this by now, but still. God hated Lance, apparently, so he should’ve been expecting it.

“Look, how this all started doesn’t really matter in the long run,” Allura said, patting her face dry delicately. “All I know is that Keith _really_ likes you.”

“Yeah,” Romelle agreed. “He looks at you at the same way I look at Lura.”

They helpfully demonstrated by gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. Lance snorted, breaking the moment. “If he looked at me like that, I think I’d notice.”

Romelle and Allura shared a glance, then Allura sighed. “Okay, so maybe he doesn’t look at you the _exact_ same way we look at each other. It’s more like he looks at you like you’re a puzzle.”

Lance raised an eyebrow.

“He can’t figure you out for the life of him because he’s just as oblivious as you, but he wants nothing more than to keep trying,” she elaborated. “He really wants to be close with you. Didn’t you see the way he looked at you when you wouldn’t sit with him on the bus?”

Lance winced. “You saw that?”

“Everybody did,” she deadpanned. “We all figured it was just trouble in paradise, courtesy of Lotor, but now me and Romelle know better.”

He sighed and walked out of the bathroom, Allura and Romelle following. He threw himself down on the bed and tried to smother himself in the puffy comforter. The two girls settled on either side of him and patted his back consolingly.

“It doesn’t even matter,” he sighed. “He still wants to get back with Lotor. I’m just another one of the poor saps who fell for Keith Kogane. It’s so embarrassing!”

“There, there,” Romelle cooed. “Every guy is obsessed with their first, okay? It doesn’t necessarily mean that he still wants to get back with him. Who would? Lotor’s a dick!”

Lance laughed quietly. “Yeah, I guess so. But I was friends with him once upon a time, so I know better than a lot of people that for as terrible as he can be, he has his good moments too. Keith’s probably seen more of those moments than anybody else. Dick or no, Lotor’s got him on a puppet string.”

“Let’s look at the facts,” Allura advised. “Here, sit up. You look pathetic.”

“I _feel_ pathetic,” Lance grumbled, but he did as Allura asked.

Allura took him by the shoulders and glared at him. “The facts are these, Lance: the fake dating was _his_ idea, but _you’re_ the one who came up with the no kissing rule _and_ want to break up _and_ are carb-loading with two lesbians while he’s probably brooding and waiting for you in the hot tub!”

“Yeah!” Romelle agreed, then frowned. “Wait, there’s a hot tub here?”

“Yeah, I’ll point it out to you once Keith and Lance are done with it,” Allura said, winking at Lance. She let go of his shoulders and crossed her arms, back to business. “Anyways, as I was saying, if there’s _anyone_ who stupidly fell in love for someone who doesn’t like them back, it’s not _you_ , Lance. It’s _Keith_.”

Lance was quiet for a long time. “...Do you really think he’s waiting for me in the hot tub?” he asked quietly, unable to squash the hope that had begun to rise in his chest.

Allura and Romelle grinned at him. “Only one way to find out,” Allura intoned.

Romelle jumped off the bed and headed for his suitcase. After a second of digging, she held up a pair of Lance’s swimming trunks, triumphant. “Go get him, tiger.”

Lance leapt from the bed and grabbed the trunks. “Thanks, guys!” he shouted as he disappeared into the bathroom.

“No problem!” they shouted back.

He didn’t notice until later that Romelle had also taken out his mother’s envelope and neatly arranged a couple condoms and one of the bottles of lube on the nightstand. A small note read “For after the hot tub, Loverboy ;)” in Allura’s looping cursive.

 

Lance’s heart was in his throat the whole way down to the first floor courtyard where the hot tub was located. He was wearing his jacket over top his swim trunks and the lion slippers he’d bought earlier that day to protect his feet from the ice-cold concrete. He looked like a mess, in his own humble opinion, but hopefully Keith wouldn’t mind.

He stepped out into the courtyard hesitantly, his eyes straining to see through the tiny pine trees and see who was in the hot tub. It was definitely turned on, judging by the blue glow coming from the lights and the soft rumble of the jets. As he crept around the tree, the figure came in view, and sure enough, there was Keith, sitting chest-deep in the cyan waters, his arms propped up on the lip of the tub.

His back was facing away from Lance, thankfully, so Lance took a second to breathe and compose himself. He approached slowly, stopping when he was able to see Keith’s profile in full view. Keith looked absolutely ethereal in the blue lighting of the hot tub, there was no other way to put it. The sharp lines of his collarbones and jaw were put on display, and the blue light made Keith’s eyes look more purple than Lance had ever seen.

“All alone?” Lance asked softly.

Keith started a bit and looked up. When he saw it was Lance, his face dropped into a guarded expression, and he looked away again. If Lance looked closely enough, he could see the slight clench to his jaw.

Lance frowned. “So now you’re ignoring me?” he asked, trying not to sound defensive. The last thing he wanted was to start another argument.

Keith grinned, but it was all wrong. “I thought it was _you_ doing the ignoring, actually.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Lance walked around the hot tub until he got to the steps. Settling down on the top one and ignoring the water droplets soaking through his jacket, he mumbled, “To be fair, I’ve never skied before, and you didn’t even offer to teach me.”

Keith’s fake smile dropped, but the scowl he fixed Lance with wasn’t much better. “Oh, and now I’m supposed to be all nice to you like you _didn’t_ ignore me on the bus ride up here and all of today?”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me?” Lance retorted bitterly. He pulled his knees up to his chest and looked off to the side. “You got to sit with who you actually _wanted_ to sit with. I did what I was supposed to do.”

Keith huffed and ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. Lance swallowed heavily, but thankfully, Keith didn’t seem to notice. “For someone so smart, you can be _so fuckin’ dense_.”

“What?”

“I wanted to sit next to _you_ , Lance!” Keith laughed breathlessly. “I downloaded a couple of movies, I packed snacks... Hell, I even asked Nadia in secret where you guys buy those breakfast crackers you like so much!”

Lance blinked. “B-but the bakery they’re from is all the way across town,” he mumbled.

Keith gave him a pained look. “Yeah, it is. So if I drove all that way _just_ to get you something you like…”

“...You must really like crackers?”

Keith shook his head, but he was smiling fondly. “You are impossible.”

Lance swallowed thickly and toed off his lion slippers. Keith’s eyes caught on the movement as he carefully placed his feet into the water, left in just his jacket and the swim trunks Romelle had picked out. Neither of them spoke for a moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t sit with you,” he whispered. “And that I’ve been ignoring you.”

Keith sighed and looked away. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, but he was definitely lying.

Lance stared at him until he looked back up, his eyes hesitant and a bit confused. There was something else there too, something that Lance had seen many times before but had never really been able to understand.

Now, though, he understood what it was. It was the same look he saw in his parent’s eyes when they looked at each other. It was the same look Romelle and Allura had. Hell, it was even the same look Pidge got when she saw a particularly impressive piece of technology. It was the same look that Lance had been trying to hide for ages, but now he was sick and tired of running from it. And now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated... well, he’d be lying if he said that didn’t make him move the most.

He shrugged off his jacket and stepped the rest of the way into the hot tub, his eyes never leaving Keith’s. He flushed as he saw Keith’s eyes widen and rake slowly up his body, pausing briefly at his chest before finally meeting his eyes again. He watched Keith as he moved forward, closer and closer and closer until there was barely a foot between them. He saw as Keith licked his lips and raised an eyebrow, smirking a little.

“Hi,” Lance whispered.

Keith’s eyes softened impossibly more. If Lance weren’t so distracted by how beautiful he was, he might’ve started to cry. “There is no one like you, Leandro,” Keith breathed.

Hands found the backs of Lance’s thighs, and with a bit of help, Lance straddled Keith’s hips and sat down on his lap, smiling widely. Hands coming up to play with the ends of Keith’s hair, he leaned forward until they were nose-to-nose.

Keith’s hands lightly squeezed Lance’s thighs as he closed the distance between them. The first kiss was little more than a light brushing of lips, a hesitant question, a hint of what was to come. Lance pushed forward, and the next kiss was a bit more solid. He was able to feel the pressure of Keith’s lips on his, and it was heaven. He didn’t see fireworks or feel sparks, but Keith’s lips were warm and surprisingly soft, considering he probably never wore lip balm like Lance did, and it felt _right_. It was a culmination of everything, a small reward for all the months they’d tortured themselves thinking that the other didn’t feel the same way.

Each kiss grew a bit heavier and longer as time went on, but Keith didn’t press, letting Lance guide the pace and determine how hard or soft or quick or long the kiss would be. He knew how to tilt his head to get the best angle, when to squeeze Lance’s thighs to get him to open his mouth in a small gasp, where to put his hands when Lance leaned closer to him, desperate for more. He was perfect, _this_ was perfect, and Lance felt the beginnings of tears welling up in his eyes.

He sniffed, and Keith pulled away quickly. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

Lance rubbed away a tear and smiled. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing. I’m happy. I’m... God, Keith, I’m _so_ happy.” He laughed breathlessly.

Keith kissed his cheeks, then his nose, then every inch of skin he could reach. Lance giggled and gasped as Keith pressed butterfly kisses down Lance’s neck and across his shoulders. His hands moved up Lance’s legs slowly and squeezed gently. He didn’t even have the nerve to look ashamed when Lance gasped and lightly smacked his arm.

Lance didn’t know how long they stayed in there, and frankly, he didn’t care. He felt warm, even as his ears grew cold in the brisk, winter air, and by the time they finally got out and wrapped themselves up tightly in towels, walking inside as quickly as possible and shivering violently, their fingers and toes were pruny.

They didn’t talk as Keith walked Lance up to his room, but Lance didn’t mind that so much. He had Keith’s hand in his, Keith’s shoulder pressed up against his, and his lips were still tingling with the memory of Keith’s lips on his. Keith kept glancing at Lance out of the corner of his eye, smiling and looking every inch as happy as Lance did.

They reached Lance’s door much too soon, but when Lance murmured a goodbye and pulled away, Keith tugged him right back in until they were standing chest-to-chest. Keith’s skin felt like it was radiating heat even through Lance’s jacket, and his breath smelled vaguely minty.

Keith leaned forward slowly and kissed Lance like he’d done probably a hundred times that night, but it still felt like the first one had: perfect. Lance kissed back without hesitation, and it seemed like Keith was trying to tell him something, trying to press all his emotions into just this one action. Lance didn’t think he totally understood, but he was sure that with more practice, he’d get it.

They pulled away just as slowly as they leaned in, and Keith gave Lance’s waist one last squeeze. “Good night,” he whispered, letting go.

“Good night,” Lance whispered back, stepping away reluctantly. They took a few steps backwards before Keith finally turned and began walking slowly away. Lance watched for a moment before turning to his door and opening it with the keycard he’d haphazardly stuffed in his jacket pocket.

Inside, the room was dark and Pidge was passed out on her bed, laptop plugged in across the room. Lance got ready for bed as quietly as possible and settled down onto the sheets with the biggest smile on his face. For the first time in a while, he drifted off easily and dreamt about nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's proud of me for that hot tub scene?? considering i'm so terrible at writing kisses, i am very happy with how it turned out :)
> 
> this is part three of the weird burst of inspiration i had a while back, but i was holding onto it in the hopes that i would have another chapter written by the time i posted it. with how much school has been kicking my butt, i don't think that's gonna happen for a while. my teachers apparently want to kill me before graduation, i stg. also i got a new job. i'm gonna get that bread, but i'm probs gonna have less free time than before :/
> 
> good news, though! i have nothing but work to do over the summer, so hopefully i'll be able to finish this fic before the end of august. it's taking a long time, but i WILL finish this fic!! thank you guys for being so patient with me :')
> 
> give me all your uwu's by commenting/kudos-ing/reviewing/etc. see any mistakes i missed? tell me, and i'll fix 'em asap! hope you enjoyed!!! :)


	13. Not What It Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Lance is too trusting. And once again, he pays for his mistakes. But things get better with a little help from your friends and family.

When Lance woke up the next morning, it took him a minute to remember what had happened the night before. As soon as he did, though, he smiled and sat up, suddenly excited to face the day. First, though, he had to pee _really_ badly.

Three notifications were waiting on his phone once he got out of the bathroom. One was a text from his mom, asking how the trip was so far. Another was an Instagram notification, saying that someone had tagged him in their post. He completely ignored it in favor of the final and most important text: a simple “ _Good morning, sunshine <3_” from Keith. If Lance was being honest, he squealed into his pillow loud enough to wake Pidge up when he saw that.

He headed down to breakfast with Pidge in tow and found Keith already eating with Romelle and Allura. The two girlfriends had smirks on their face, but Keith was scowling as he snapped something back. Even from the breakfast buffet, Lance could see the bright red flush to his cheeks.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” he mused aloud as he clicked a pair of tongs together to double-check that they worked and picked up a miniature sausage.

“Probably the stack of condoms and bottle of lube on your nightstand,” Pidge said casually, completely forgoing the tongs to pick up a small stack of pancakes. Her lack of hygiene was disgusting, but Lance was more preoccupied with what she’d said.

He choked on his own spit and coughed violently into his elbow. _“What?!”_ he cried.

“You forgot to put it away before you left for the hot tub,” Pidge continued casually. She seemed to debate something for a second before adding a single strawberry to her plate of sugary, greasy breakfast food. “I put it away _for_ you when I got back, but I’m sure Romelle found a way to bring up your envelope of sex supplies. Where’d you get that, by the way? I never would’ve pegged you as so prepared for sexy times.”

“My mom gave it to me,” Lance explained weakly, his good mood now replaced with crawling embarrassment. “I didn’t _want_ to keep it, but I had no choice…”

“Well, maybe it’ll come in handy later,” she said with a shrug. “Just spare me the details and clean up when you’re done.”

“I’m not--!” he started, but Pidge walked away before he could even finish. He followed quickly, struggling to finish his sentence. “I wouldn’t! You _know_ I wouldn’t! It’s just-- My mom was being _weird_ and gave them to me before I could figure out how to get rid of them!”

He hadn’t noticed they’d reached the table by then, and Keith coughed into his fist. “Get rid of _what_ , Lance?” he asked hoarsely.

Lance slapped down his plate and began to walk away. “I’m going to grab a drink, and when I get back, you had better change the subject!”

Allura, Romelle, and Pidge laughed loudly, but Lance didn’t hear Keith’s reaction. True to their word, though, the subject had changed to what slopes they would go down that day. Keith’s ears stayed red the whole conversation, and several times Lance caught him watching Lance curiously. It only made their respective blushes _worse_ , but Lance was secretly overjoyed that neither of them had to hide their interest anymore. It made him feel oddly light as he accepted Keith’s offer to teach him how to ski.

Both of them were too caught up in their own little world to notice the stares and whispers following them. The Instagram notification Lance had gotten earlier was entirely forgotten and disappeared from his phone when he went scrolling through the meme accounts he followed, showing Keith dumb videos just to get that cute, amused huff out of him.

They parted ways early that night to pack up their stuff and get some sleep for the long bus ride tomorrow morning. Keith waved goodbye, Lance’s seaglass bracelet peeking out a bit as the sleeve of his old, red hoodie rode up a bit.

He hadn’t stayed long enough to see the text Keith got from a familiar number that had him leaving his room with a determined frown. He didn’t notice until too late that his bracelet had disappeared by the next morning.

 

Lance was half-asleep still as he and the rest of the students shuffled outside to get on the bus. He got stuck at the back of the line and was one of the last people to shove their bags under the bus and get on.

As soon as he did, the bus broke into applause. He looked behind him to see if there was someone else there, but it was just him. He flushed and hurried to sit down with Keith. The applause died just as quickly as it had begun, but he was still hyperaware of the other kids’ smirks and sly glances.

“What was that?” he asked Keith, setting his backpack down at his feet.

“Nothing,” Keith assured, smiling slightly. “They do this all the time with couples. It’s normal, don’t worry.”

Lance wasn’t so sure, but Keith shifted closer and asked, “I’m still really tired. Can I use you as a pillow?”

He smiled softly and nodded. Keith made himself comfortable on Lance’s shoulder and quickly fell asleep. Lance followed suit not long after the bus started moving, resting his head on Keith’s and drifting off. “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star played on low volume in his ears.

 

Lotor turned in his seat and watched the two napping together with a scowl. After a moment, though, he took a deep breath and faced the front of the bus again. A Snapchat notification lit up his phone, and when he brought it up to his face to take a selfie, the sleeve of his jacket was pulled back enough to reveal a bracelet of smooth, multi-colored glass strung together carefully with wire. The girl sitting next to him spotted it and bit her lip, but she knew better than to ask Lotor why he was wearing Lance McClain’s favorite bracelet.

 

The bus ride back to school took _way_ too long for Lance’s tastes, but they’d made it home about fifteen minutes earlier than they’d thought. Still, it was late, and Lance’s body was sore from being stuck sitting all day. He heaved his suitcase out of the bottom of the bus, regretting not asking Keith for help with his luggage. Keith had rushed inside as soon as the bus had stopped to use the bathroom. The one on their bus wasn’t smelling so great after fourteen hours of people thinking ‘screw it’ and using that instead of waiting in line during their bathroom stops.

Someone approached him as he slowly stretched his arms above his head. “Hey, Lance,” Lotor purred.

Lance turned and fixed Lotor with a suspicious look. “Hey, Lotor,” he said, aiming for civility. “What’s up?”

Lotor shrugged, a gesture all too innocent for the glint in his eyes. “Nothing much. I just wanted to say that I’m glad you finally came on the ski trip this year. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, I did. Did you?”

Lotor nodded. “Yeah. I’m so glad my last chance to go on this trip ended up so awesome. And, hey. Thank you for being so understanding.”

Ah, there it was. The catch. Lance had seen it coming as soon as Lotor had come over, but he still couldn’t tell where Lotor was going with this. He smiled slightly. “Understanding about what?” he asked.

“My friendship with Keith,” Lotor explained, the glint in his eyes only growing worse. His smile looked more like a feral grin. “A lot of couples are really possessive, you know? And they get so _weird_ when their boyfriend sleeps in someone else’s room. But _you_ … You’re so _trusting_ , Lance. I remember that about you from middle school.”

Lance froze, and Lotor’s smile turned into a bloodthirsty smirk. “Well, anyways, I’m gonna head home. I missed sleeping in my own bed. But, ugh, before I go…” He began to take off his heavy winter jacket. “It’s too hot for this thing anymore. So glad I’m not freezing my balls off in Pennsylvania still.”

The streetlights around them caught on the polished glass of Lotor’s bracelet. Even in the low light, Lance recognized the shapes of the seaglass on Lotor’s wrist. “Where did you get that?” he croaked, his eyes never leaving the bracelet.

“Oh, this thing?” Lotor asked innocently. He touched it briefly with his fingers. “Keith gave it to me last night when he came to my room. It’s cute, isn’t it? Homemade things are _so_ romantic, don’t you think?”

Lance felt sick, but Lotor just smirked wider and waved. “Well, anyways, goodbye, Lance! Have a great night. And tell Keith I said ‘hi’ too.”

Lance stared after him for a long time before Keith came jogging back over. “You ready to go?” he asked, not even the slightest bit breathless after his dash to the bathroom. “Here, lemme at least take you bags.”

“You went to Lotor’s room last night, didn’t you?” Lance asked quietly. He didn’t need to glance over to see Keith freezing, his hand hovering over his bag. “After I left.”

It took Keith a second to respond as he slowly stepped in front of Lance’s view and finally caught his gaze. Keith’s eyes were dark and pleading as they took in Lance’s expression and the rage threatening to boil over. He swallowed and said slowly, carefully, “Yes, I did, but--”

“And you gave him my grandmother’s bracelet,” Lance interrupted, his voice shaking just the tiniest bit. “After I specifically told you yesterday that I trusted you to keep it.”

Keith’s eyes flashed with shock. “Wait, he has _what_ \--?”

“Am I just a joke to you?” Lance asked, deadly quiet.

Keith paled. _“No,”_ he murmured, reaching forward like he wanted to grab Lance’s hands. “You don’t understand, I--”

Lance stepped out of his reach and shook his head. “Obviously this isn’t going to work. I can’t be with you if you’re still sleeping around with Lotor.”

“What… what are you _saying_?” Keith asked, his voice cracking.

“This is over,” Lance snapped, his grip tightening on his suitcase. “In every possible way. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear from you--”

“Lance, please, _wait_!” Keith cried, grabbing Lance’s arm before he could march away. “Just… Just let me drive you home. I’ll explain _everything_ , I promise, just _please_ don’t leave!”

Lance grit his teeth and shoved Keith’s hand off of his arm. “Get the _fuck_ away from me,” he hissed. “I would rather _walk_ home. Actually, no, you know what? I’d rather drive _myself_ home than be anywhere near you right now.”

He shouldered his backpack and began the long, long walk back to his house. Keith didn’t try to stop him.

 

Lance made it to the pizza place he and Keith had had dinner at during the first home game before Mrs Holt pulled over and demanded he get inside. She tried asking Lance what had happened to his ride, but Pidge saw the tears threatening to spill over and told her not to press it. The ride to Lance’s house was silent except for the music playing softly over the radio. It was a slow rock song that Lance could easily imagine Keith listening to. _“Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb,”_ the dashboard’s LED screen read. Lance scoffed and closed his eyes. The devil was laughing his little red ass off.

The song was a bit of a long one, lasting the entire drive to Lance’s house. Pidge watched him worriedly as he hummed along to the chorus and stared out of the window. The ending guitar solo faded to nothing as he stepped out of the car and thanked Mrs Holt for driving him home. Pidge tried to say something to him, probably about to ask what was wrong, but Lance shut the door and walked up to his front door. It was unlocked, thankfully, and he stepped inside without offering one final wave to Mrs Holt’s car as it idled in his driveway.

He shut the door behind him with a sigh, his eyes closed. He didn’t even notice how much the house had changed until he’d already taken off his shoes and jacket. But when he turned around, he was greeted with stockings, a fully-decorated Christmas tree, and wreaths on almost every window. He smiled faintly. With all the drama going on during the ski trip, he’d almost forgotten that it was almost Christmas.

Rachel suddenly appeared from another room, carrying a steaming mug. As soon as she spotted Lance, she rushed forward to give him a one-armed hug. “Thought I heard you coming in!” she squealed. “Welcome home.”

Lance smiled a bit wider and hugged her back. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Rachel agreed, drawing back with a blinding grin. She held up the mug. “Here, I brought you hot chocolate.”

Lance took it and sipped it carefully. “This is the real stuff, huh?” he asked. “No powder mixes or anything.”

“Not for my favorite little brother,” Rachel agreed.

“I’m your _only_ little brother,” Lance scoffed. He looked around. “This must’ve taken you a while.”

“Actually, I had some help,” Rachel said, smiling cryptically.

“Hey there, little brother,” a new voice whispered.

Lance spun around to face the stairs, and sure enough, Veronica was standing there in all her skinny-jeans-polo-shirt glory. She was smiling softly, and while Lance could tell she was a bit upset with him, she still opened her arms for a hug. Lance handed his hot chocolate to Rachel and wrapped her up in the biggest, warmest, tightest hug he could muster. He tried to apologize with just that action, and if the way Veronica’s hand clenched his shirt, pulling him closer, it was understood and temporarily accepted.

“Okay, enough of that, I want in too!” Rachel interrupted, worming her way into her siblings’ arms. Lance and Veronica shared a laugh, and they all stood, hugging, in the front hallway for a long, long time. Well, at least until Rachel demanded they make cookies, even though it was almost eleven at night.

“Arizona is amazing, but oh my god, it literally _never_ rains,” Veronica lamented. She tossed a ball of of cookie dough between her hands a few times to get it nice and round before smooshing it down onto the pan. “But at least it’s not super cold. I don’t think I’d be able to deal with that.”

Rachel nodded, passing her another clump of cookie dough as she rolled her own fistful into a rough sphere. “Amen to that. But more important than the _weather_... Meet anybody _cute_?”

Veronica tried her best to stay blank-faced, but Lance still caught the blush. “There’s a girl named Acxa who seems pretty interested in me,” she said slowly. “But I’m not sure about her yet. I think there’s a rule against dating your coworkers anyways.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Liar, you just don’t want to admit that you want in her pants,” she accused.

Lance and Rachel laughed at Veronica’s mock-indignant gasp, and even after they moved on to talking about some of the nutty patients Rachel had to look after in the local nursing home, Lance watched Veronica with a smile. He had missed her being here, and as much as he knew the distance between them was _his_ fault, he didn’t want to think about that right now. She would have to leave New Year’s Day to get back to Arizona in time to work again, and Lance wanted to enjoy the time he had with her while he could. The Christmas season was about _celebrating_ , not getting all depressed because of stupid past mistakes or thinking about--

“Hey, Lance, are you gonna be inviting Keith to dinner sometime during the break?” Rachel asked, looking over at her brother.

Lance froze and was about to mouth ‘shut up’ at her when Veronica perked up. “Keith?” she asked, her eyes practically _sparkling_ at the potential to tease her brother. “As in Keith _Kogane_? The one you had a massive crush on in seventh grade?”

Lance flushed, but a loud knock came from the front door that cut off his explanation. Good thing too because Lance had no idea how he was supposed to explain this to Veronica without exposing the whole truth.

“I-I’ll go get that,” he stammered, practically running to the door.

Rachel and Veronica exchanged looks, but neither made any move to follow him as he walked into the foyer and opened the door. A blast of cold air washed over him, and he shivered. That shiver only got worse when he caught sight of who was behind the door.

“We need to talk,” Keith said before Lance could find words. He looked good - much better than Lance _felt_ , anyways - but his lips were pressed together into a firm line. He was closed off, Lance could tell.

“Not in here,” Lance finally said, stepping out onto the front porch and closing the door behind him. He immediately regretted that, because now he was stuck wearing a pair of loose sweatpants, a t-shirt, and no socks or shoes in the cold, winter air.

Still, he led Keith off of the porch and onto the front walkway, far enough away from the house that hopefully none of their conversation would make it back inside. His feet immediately began to protest standing on the ice-cold concrete, but he did his best to ignore it. He looked at Keith to start, and the boy didn’t disappoint.

“Nothing happened between me and Lotor last night,” he said immediately. “Nothing at all. And as for the bracelet, I don’t even know how he got it. I sure as hell didn’t _give_ it to him. I was wearing it when I went in, but I guess he managed to steal it off of me at some point. I didn’t even notice it was gone until we…” He looked away. “...Until _you_ told me he had it.”

Lance pursed his lips and looked off to the side. “That’s not it,” he grumbled.

“Then what _is_?” Keith asked, throwing out his hands. “Lance, I didn’t cheat on you! You’re seriously going to believe _Lotor’s_ word over _mine_? You know as well as I do that he’s a liar! He was trying to get under your skin and break us up!”

“I _know_ you didn’t cheat!” Lance snapped. “That’s not the problem! The _problem_ is that you went to him in the first place!”

“We have _history_ , Lance! I can’t just go back to not feeling _anything_ for him when I _did_ feel something for him for such a long time!”

Lance clenched his fists and grit his teeth. “I’m tired of being second-best,” he hissed. “Or fake best or whatever the fuck you keep making me. I deserve to be someone’s _first_ choice, and obviously, I’m not yours.”

“You’re not--” Keith sighed sharply through his nose. “You don’t get it. Lance, that night in the hot tub? That was--”

“--a mistake,” Lance interrupted. “It was a mistake. To you, physical stuff might not seem like that big of a deal, but to _me_ , it is.”

“Who _says_ physical stuff doesn’t mean that much to me!”

“Says every fuckin’ person on the bus!” Lance screamed. “You don’t think I didn’t realize what that meant?! They were clapping because they thought you finally did the impossible and managed to fuck the uptight Catholic boy! And you didn’t even try to deny it! You just fuckin’ _ate it up _, didn’t you!”__

__Keith inhaled sharply. “That’s not--”_ _

__“Just go!” Lance spat. Neither of them seem to notice the figure walking towards them from the neighbor’s yard. “Get out of here. I don’t want to see you anymore or hear your dumb fucking excuses.”_ _

__Keith took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down. “Look,” he said, a bit quieter. “Can we just go inside and talk about this?”_ _

__“No--” Lance started, but a new voice cut in._ _

__“He asked you to leave, Kogane,” Ryan Kinkade said evenly, stopping just a foot from them. He had his hands in his pockets and his hood up to protect them from the chill, and his eyes were narrowed dangerously._ _

__Lance jumped but recovered quickly. They had been too loud, it was _his_ fault for getting so upset. Hadn’t he resolved just a few minutes ago that he wouldn’t think about Keith or let him ruin Lance’s good mood?_ _

__“This doesn’t involve you, Ryan,” Lance warned. “Go back home. We’ll be quieter.”_ _

__“No, no, it’s alright,” Ryan said, standing a bit taller and moving to stand in front of Lance._ _

__“Ryan--!” Lance tried again, grabbing his arm, but Keith narrowed his eyes, glancing between Lance and Ryan._ _

__“Are you _serious_ right now?” he demanded angrily._ _

__Lance blinked and glanced at Ryan, unsure what he was getting at. Keith, though, took that the wrong way and scowled. “This isn’t even about me and Lotor at _all_! This is about you and Ryan! Are you _serious_?!”_ _

__Lance saw the front door open out of the corner of his eye, but Keith wasn’t done yet. “You broke up with me because you’re still in love with Ryan!” Keith accused. “Are you _joking_?!”_ _

__Lance’s eyes widened, but Ryan spoke over his weak protests. “If Lance broke up with you, it’s probably because he’s come to the simple conclusion that he’s too good for you!”_ _

__Keith flared, about to shout something right back, but Lance’s horrified gasp interrupted the both of them. They followed his gaze and saw Lance’s entire family standing in the door, most of them no doubt woken up by their fighting. They all looked shocked, but Veronica was tearing up. “You’re in love with Ryan?” she asked quietly._ _

__Lance inhaled deeply and started forward. “Ronnie, wait--” he tried, but she pushed her way through the crowd of family and ran upstairs. A second later, he heard her door slam shut._ _

__Everybody was quiet for a moment, but Lance suddenly whirled around and yelled, “Go home, Keith!”_ _

__Keith slowly closed his mouth and gave Lance a pleading look. “You were _never_ second-best,” he murmured. Lance grit his teeth and geared up to repeat his command, but Keith turned and walked quickly away, heading towards his car._ _

__Ryan tried to speak next. “I… I didn’t know she was home,” he stammered._ _

__“Well, she is,” Lance snapped. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”_ _

__Ryan swallowed and shoved his hands back into his pockets. Without another word, he started walking away too. Keith’s car turned over and roared out of the neighborhood, definitely driving faster than the speed limit sign said he could. In a matter of seconds, it was just Lance and his very confused family left standing on the porch._ _

__His feet were numb by now, but he barely even noticed it as he pushed past everyone and went upstairs. He was so tired now._ _

__

__Lance only fell asleep that night because of pure exhaustion. As soon as he woke up the next morning, though, the only thing he wanted to do was go right back to sleep. But his family was causing too much ruckus downstairs to ignore, and when he rolled over to check his phone, maybe find a few memes to cheer him up, he was met with a wall of notifications, most of which were from Instagram. But a string of texts from Pidge caught his attention first._ _

_____DUDE WTF_  
_EVERYBODYS SAYING YOU AND KEITH DID IT ON THE TRIP_  
_BITCH ANSWER YOUR FUCKIN PHONE  
_I STG__

______A few minutes later, she’d sent a video._ _ _ _ _ _

_HOLY FUCK LANCE IS THIS YOU???_

__Lance clicked on the video, and sure enough, it was of him and Keith, making out in the hot tub. It was hard to tell because the lighting was so terrible, but Lance would recognize Keith’s mullet _anywhere_ , and Lance had been the only person to make out with him in that particular hot tub._ _

____

The phone dropped out of Lance’s hand and fell to the bed. A scream pierced through the sleepy atmosphere of the McClain house, and everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at the origin: Lance’s room.

____

_“Dios, dame fuerzas,”_ Rosa whispered to herself as she turned back to making breakfast.

____

____

In a fit of rage (when he had turned from panicked to angry, Lance couldn’t tell you), Lance marched downstairs and grabbed an empty cardboard box to dump all of the romance books into, not caring if they got damaged in the process. He stormed over to his desk next and found the contract he and Keith had made all the way back in August hiding in one of the drawers. He stared at it for a second before tearing it up savagely, not even bothering to throw the pieces away properly.

____

Suddenly, though, his phone chimed again, and all of Lance’s panic came back. He snatched it off the desk and hurried to a closed door near the end of the hall. He knocked once before letting himself in.

Veronica looked up and frowned when she saw him. “I’m busy, Lance,” she muttered, folding a t-shirt on her bed.

____

"Please,” Lance whispered. “I need your help.”

____

Something in his voice must’ve told her how upset he was because she nodded resolutely and followed him back into his room. From there, Lance showed her the video and the original post he’d been tagged in.

She was quiet for a long moment. “Well,” she said bracingly. “It’s not that bad. You’re still wearing your swim trunks, we only see your back, and it’s not like anyone would have recognized you if you hadn’t been tagged. It’s probably worse for Keith than it is for you.”

____

“Don’t mention him,” Lance said darkly, flopping down onto the bed. “God, how did I let this happen! I’m so stupid.” He grabbed a nearby stuffed animal and hugged it tightly to his chest.

Veronica sighed and put his phone down. “It’s not that bad, stop being a drama queen,” she ordered. She stood and grabbed the stuffed animal. “Let go of that and sit up. We’re going to fix this, you hear me?”

__He let go reluctantly and only helped a little bit as she hauled him upright. “You’re only doing this because you feel bad I accidentally made a sex tape,” he grumbled a bit childishly._ _

__Veronica shrugged. “Yeah, partially.”_ _

__They were quiet for a moment, but she broke it after a moment with a heavy sigh. “What I don’t get, Lance, is why you didn’t just tell me what was going on in the first place,” she admitted quietly. He looked over at her in time to see her rub at her eyes. “We could’ve stopped all this _before_ it got to unintentional-sex-tape levels.”_ _

__“I thought you would hate me,” Lance explained weakly._ _

__“Why would I hate you?” Veronica asked. “Lance, I could _never_ hate you, you’re my brother! Annoyed, yes, but _hate_? God no.” She sniffed a bit. “But when I heard what Keith said, I thought you’d made a move on Ryan or something.”_ _

__“How could you think I would _ever_ do something like that to you?” Lance asked, shocked._ _

__“I don’t know!” Veronica cried. “You wouldn’t even _text_ me, let alone Skype me! What was I _supposed_ to think?!”_ _

__Lance began to cry. He had always been a bit of a crybaby, but when someone as tough as Veronica began to tear up, he was helpless to do the same. “I couldn’t Skype with you because I was lying to every other person in my life, and I knew I couldn’t lie to you too,” he whispered._ _

__Veronica let a few tears of her own fall. “I just thought you didn’t need me anymore,” she mumbled. “I mean, we’re drifting apart.”_ _

__“Us drifting is _my_ fault,” Lance insisted, reaching for her hand. She let him take it and fixed him with a doubtful look. “It _is_. And how could you think I don’t need you anymore? Just look at all the shit that happened while you were gone!” He laughed a touch hysterically. “I made a freaking sex tape without even having sex! Or even having a boyfriend, really!”_ _

__Veronica laughed wetly and opened her arms. “Come here.”_ _

__Lance did as she said and wrapped her up in a hug. He felt her wipe her nose on his shirt, but he didn’t call her out for it. Instead, he just closed his eyes tight and let himself enjoy the feeling of being forgiven._ _

__He heard his door creak open and looked over Veronica’s shoulder to see Rachel standing awkwardly in the doorway. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked, narrowing his red-rimmed eyes._ _

__Veronica let go of him and turned to see who he was talking about. When she saw Rachel, she frowned. Rachel smiled sheepishly. “Not very long.” She winced when her two siblings narrowed their eyes at her and bit her lip. “The whole time.”_ _

__Veronica laughed lightly and gestured for Rachel to join them. They shared a brief group hug, and Lance felt his cheeks beginning to hurt from how much he was smiling. It was a far cry from how he’d felt the last few days, but it felt good to be able to let loose like this._ _

__“Okay, let’s make a pact,” Veronica declared as they all pulled away. “No more secrets between us youngest McClains. Okay?”_ _

__Lance nodded immediately, but Rachel took a deep breath. “Actually… If we’re going to be completely honest, I need to come clean about something.”_ _

__Veronica and Lance frowned curiously and watched as she worked up her courage. “I’m the one who sent the love letters,” she blurted after a moment, her eyes squeezed shut._ _

__Lance was silent for several moments, and Rachel tensed up. They all knew what was coming next, and Veronica took a deep breath to prepare._ _

__“I’m going to kill you,” Lance whispered. That was all the warning Rachel got before he suddenly lunged at her. If it wasn’t for Veronica grabbing Lance’s shoulders as he tried climbing over her, Rachel would never had gotten the chance to jump up and start running around his room._ _

__“Don’t kill her, she’s your sister!” Veronica shouted, staying hot on Lance’s tail and tugging on his shoulders to slow him down. “Lance!”_ _

__Rachel found temporary relief holding Lance’s desk chair between them as Veronica fought to keep him from throwing a shoe at her. “Nadia told me about what happened with Keith, and I knew he liked you!” she explained in a rush. “But we both knew you would never do anything about it!”_ _

__“So you just sent _all_ of my letters?!” Lance screeched, finally breaking free of Veronica’s grasp and chasing after Rachel again. He was briefly pushed back by the desk chair, but he shoved it out of the way and the chase was on again._ _

__“I thought five chances at an S.O. was better than just one!”_ _

__Rachel put enough distance between them to shut herself in his closet with Veronica holding Lance back. “For the record, I miss having Keith over for dinner!” Rachel shouted through the door._ _

__“Enough!” Veronica roared, shoving Lance back. She huffed and shook her head. “Look. I get it. What she did wasn’t right, but her heart was in the right place.”_ _

__“It’s about to be in the _wrong_ place!” Lance snapped, trying to rush the door._ _

__Veronica caught him and pushed him back again. “Leandro Alexander, before you murder our sister, answer me this: If you never wanted those letters to be sent, why did you address them?”_ _

__Lance opened and closed his mouth a few times before muttering, “It’s not like I added a stamp…!”_ _

__Veronica rolled her eyes but continued. “Just admit it, Lance. Some part of you wanted somebody to mail your letters so that not everything in your life keeps being fantasy.”_ _

__Lance flushed. “And if there is?”_ _

__“Look, if I can forgive you for writing my ex a love letter, can you forgive Rachel for sending your letters?”_ _

__Rachel peeked her head out of the closet, and Lance glared at her. Still, he made no move to attack her again and closed his eyes. “Yes, I can forgive her,” he grumbled. “But she owes me massages for the rest of her life.”_ _

__Rachel grinned and stepped fully out of the closet. “Thank god,” she sighed. “I was hoping to make it to graduation.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so the same day i posted the last chapter, i was supposed to be working on a five-page essay that was technically due that day and was gonna have to turn in late. instead, my inspiration smacks me upside the head and makes me write two whole chapters (that i combined into this one because the second chapter was too short and i was too lazy to find a better cut-off point for it).
> 
> we're coming to the end of the story, but i'm thinking of making this into a little series and maybe posting a few cute one-shots, probably focusing on keith and lance during college. or maybe i'll just make an epilogue, who knows. knowing myself, it'll probably be a while before i actually finish the movie.
> 
> as always, kudos/comments/reviews/etc. are much appreciated! if you see a grammatical mistake or just want to ask a question to clarify, feel free to! thanks!! :)


	14. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _(We're sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you've reached this message in error, please check the number and try your call later.)_
> 
> _Don't go, don't go so easy_   
>  _Don't go, don't go and leave me_   
>  _Don't go, don't go so easy_   
>  _Don't go, don't go and leave me_   
>  _Don't go, don't go so easy_   
>  _Don't go, don't go and leave me_   
>  _Don't go, don't go so easy!_   
>  _Don't go, go--_
> 
> _**So can I call you tonight?** _

After Lance explained the situation to his family, his parents were more than happy to keep him home for the three days of school left before the holidays. Nobody was really doing anything in any of the classes, so he didn’t even have to worry about catching up on schoolwork. Still, it sucked knowing that even if Veronica _did_ manage to convince Instagram to take down the video, everybody would _still_ want to talk about it when he got back to school.

But on Christmas day, he was woken up with two text messages from Pidge.

_i deleted the og video and any reposts off of insta and any other big social media sites_  
_if anyone tries to repost it again they’ll find themselves with a nice virus_  
_u owe me a horror movie_

Lance’s grinned so wide his cheeks hurt and forgot how to type.

_OMG THANKT YOU OS MYUCH!!!!!!!!_  
_PIDGE YUOR SERISSOSLY THE BEST FRIEND EVER_

He practically skipped downstairs to share the news with his family. They were overjoyed, and Joaquín pulled him into one of his famous bear hugs. Rosa immediately began planning to make him a special treat, though when asked what it would be, she simply winked and told him he’d have to wait until after dinner.

His phone buzzed with Pidge’s answer, and - still grinning - he took it out and read the reply.

_i know_  
_but like i said we’re watching the shining now_  
_honestly its a sin you haven’t seen it yet_

_if i’ve told u once, i’ve told u a thousand times_  
_i’m a huge baby!! i cant’ deal with scary stuff :(_

_yeah you’re a male ego_

_??_

_it’s more fragile than a pussy so_  
_i’m calling you that instead_  
_cause pussies are metal as fuck_

Lance chuckled. _that’s fair_

He closed out of the small reply window and was about to put his phone back to sleep when his eyes caught on his lock screen picture. It was taken before the ski trip, the day after the last football game. He and Keith had fallen asleep on the couch during a movie night and had somehow ended up hardcore cuddling. Rosa had thought it was adorable and snapped a picture before she woke them up.

Before, Lance’s heart would speed up a bit whenever he saw the picture, remembering how warm Keith had been and how comforting it was to hear his heartbeat. Whenever someone caught him staring at it - usually Pidge or someone from his family - he would blush and hurriedly put it away. They’d tease him incessantly for it, but it never once crossed his mind to spare himself the embarrassment and change it to something else.

Now, though... He kept his phone awake and walked over to the couch, plopping down. Veronica sprawled across his lap and smiled as she texted her definitely not-crush, but he never took his eyes off of the picture. Every time the screen would time out and go dark, he would click the button again to wake it back up. He sighed heavily.

“Guess I should probably change my phone background, huh?” he asked, finally glancing down at Veronica with a wry grin.

Veronica’s smile dropped as she looked up at him. “Maybe,” she hummed. “ _Or_... You could go talk to him.”

 

New Years was supposed to be a time for resolutions, so two days after Christmas, Lance put on the blue, noise-cancelling headphones he’d gotten that year, started playing his “Chill” playlist, and began to clean his room.

It was slow, tedious work, but Lance’s mind was mercifully quiet and still. Everything in his life was messy and out-of-control, but his room was getting cleaner and more organized with every passing minute. It did nothing to fix his much bigger problems, but for the moment, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was him and the stack of old schoolwork on his desk that he was sorting through so he could take a break from leaning down to pick up all his stuffed animals.

Outside his door, three members of the McClain family were conferencing. With a bit of convincing, Joaquín managed to gently shoo Rosa and Veronica away and walked slowly inside. It took a second for him to catch Lance’s eye, but as soon as Lance took off his headphones, he smiled and held up his keys.

“Wanna go for a drive?” he asked.

Lance smiled softly and nodded. “Gimme a sec.”

Less than five minutes later, Joaquín and Lance were sliding into the front seats of Lance’s Cooper. It had been a while since Lance had driven, but they managed to get to _The Five Lions Cafe_ without too much trouble. Joaquín had certainly picked a good time of day to go out. Not many people were out on the roads, but it wasn’t so early in the morning that the cafe was totally empty. A few other people were there as Joaquín claimed a familiar table not far from the doors.

Joaquín’s first act after putting his jacket down on the back of his chair was to walk over to the beat-up jukebox in the corner. Lance hurried to follow and watched over his shoulder, curious, as Joaquín scanned the jukebox’s collection before finally settling on “Rock the Casbah” by the Clash. He bobbed his head along to the first couple of measures before waving for Lance to follow him back to their seats.

“I had to,” he explained with a grin as he sat back down. “Rosa would have my head if she found out I hadn’t played it.”

Lance frowned slightly. The song sounded familiar, but he couldn’t understand why his mother would want to listen to it so much. “Why’s that?” he asked. “I never knew she liked…” He struggled to find the words.

“White people music?” Joaquín asked, smiling playfully. They shared a small laugh. “I was surprised too, but every time we came here, she would put it on. When I finally asked her about, maybe a month or so in to dating, she told me that it was the only song on the jukebox that she liked and could dance to. And from that moment on, she would pull me up out of my chair to dance with her.”

Lance summoned the image easily and laughed. “That sounds about right.”

Joaquín chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “Yeah.”

They were silent for a moment, Lance smiling over at the jukebox and Joaquín quickly settling on what he wanted. A waiter walked over and took their drink order: Lance got a glass of chocolate milk and Joaquín settled for a cup of plain black coffee. In less than a minute, they had their order in their hands, and Joaquín took a small, experimental sip of his coffee.

He wrinkled his nose a bit. “Your _abuelo_ makes it better,” he whispered conspiritally.

Lance laughed. It was a well-known fact that coffee was the only thing _Abuelo_ Edward could make without burning it somehow. He always got up early to grind the coffee beans by hand and measure out the perfect ratio of water to grinds. If Lance hadn’t been cursed with the biggest sweet tooth in the world, he might’ve enjoyed it as much as the rest of his family did.

“You know, when I started dating Rosa, I was really worried about how you guys would react to me,” Joaquín admitted suddenly. His eyes were a bit sad, but it was distant. “I was so scared that I would accidentally remind you of Shaun somehow, and you’d always be wary of me.”

Lance snorted. “You’re basically the exact _opposite_ of Shuan,” he assured.

Joaquín hummed quietly, thoughful. “Still, I wanted to impress you. It wasn’t just so I didn’t have to worry Rosa about how we’d get along, but also, I knew from Rosa’s stories that you guys were awesome in your own special way. Luis is kind beyond all reason; Marco is the most creative and free-spirited person I’ve ever met; Veronica is whip-smart; Rachel is compulsive but focused; and _you_ …”

Lance flushed a bit, not ready for whatever compliment Joaquín was about to hand out.

“ _You_ , Lance, are so much more amazing than you give yourself credit for,” Joaquín said, reaching over and taking Lance’s hand. “It breaks my heart to see you doubting that sometimes.” He squeezed gently so Lance would look him in the eyes. “I won’t lie and say that I know everything that’s happened between you and Keith.”

Lance inhaled shakily, not quite ready to reveal _everything_ when it was still so raw, but Joaquín quickly added, “And you don’t have to tell me. That’s your business and yours alone. But I’m not blind. He helped you come into yourself a bit more. I saw sides of you that I’d never really seen before. I know you put on a brave, happy face for everyone, and that’s admirable in its own way. But with Keith, it seemed like you weren’t so afraid to show the things that were hurting.”

Lance was quiet, staring down at his hand in Joaquín’s, squeezing it idly for support. Joaquín was respectful and didn’t say anything else for a while. It wasn’t until their food came over that he spoke again, thankfully talking about lighter topics. Lance was more than happy to brush away his tears and gush about how excited he was for the summer vacation he and Hunk were planning. His heart was still heavy with thoughts of Keith and Shaun and all the other people who had betrayed and disappointed him, but Joaquín offered a brief respite, a crutch he could use to help him along until he could walk on his own again.

They walked back out to the car about an hour later, laughing at some stupid joke Joaquín told. They were quieter on the ride back home, perhaps some more of the situation sinking in and sobering them, but Lance felt a bit better as he stepped out of the car and walked back into his house.

Yeah, his life was a mess, but his room was clean and his family was willing to listen.

 

The holidays passed much too quickly for Lance’s enjoyment, and it wasn’t just the upcoming threat of school that was making him less than excited to say goodbye to the Christmas decorations and Veronica.

They saw her off just hours after celebrating New Year’s. Everybody was exhausted, but a red-eye flight was the only one that would get her back to Arizona before she needed to work the next morning. It was a strange copy of their send-off of her in the summer, but different in that when Veronica hugged him goodbye, she whispered, “Talk to Keith, please. At the very least, talk to _me_. I don’t want to go months and months without knowing what’s going on with you.

Lance smiled and nodded. “I will,” he promised. “In fact, expect a full report on the first day of school.”

Veronica winced a little. “I’m sorry I can’t be there for that. If anyone so much as _looked_ at you wrong, I’d smash their face in.”

“I know you would,” Lance laughed. “So maybe it’s a good thing you won’t be there. Your future is too bright to throw it away fighting a bunch of dumb high schoolers. Besides, I have to face this myself. It’s time to stop beating myself up about this and just move on.”

Veronica didn’t look very happy with his declaration, but she smiled anyways. “Well, if you insist. Just know that in a few years, this won’t even matter. Keep your annoyingly sharp chin up high, ya hear? _Te amo_.”

_“Yo también te amo,”_ Lance murmured back. _“Viajes seguros.”_

Veronica smiled and gave him one last hug. Just like a little under four months ago, she didn’t look back. Lance’s face crumbled just a little as he watched her disappear. This wasn’t goodbye, not really, but he’d always felt braver with Veronica by his side. Her courage always seemed to rub off on him. And he’d need every ounce of courage he had - real or not - to make it through his first day back at school.

 

The day started out innocently enough. Lance woke up to Joaquín knocking on his door. _“Buenos días hijo,”_ he called softly as he poked his head inside. “Ready to face the day?”

Lance smiled wryly and rubbed his eyes as Joaquín flicked on the lights and filled the room with bright, yellow-ish light. “No, but I didn’t think I would be.”

Joaquín sighed and offered Lance a hug as he walked by to get to the bathroom. Lance accepted it. “If you want to come home, don’t hesitate to tell me. The school should’ve done more about this anyways.”

“Technically what happened didn’t happen at a school-sponsered event,” Lance mumbled. “The ski trip is organized entirely by students, the school just issues vacation forms so that people can go. Besides, it’s not like the school could do much anyways. Even if they order people not to talk about it, they’ll still do it. Just, you know, not in front of teachers.”

“Kids are creative like that, huh?”

“No, not creative,” Lance sighed as he pulled away. “Just well-trained.”

 

Allura picked him up that morning since he still wasn’t on speaking terms with The-Mullet-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named. (When Lance first starting calling him that, Veronica had very fittingly quipped back, “Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.” Lance didn’t really have a clever retort to fire back. She was right, kind of.) Lance couldn’t stand the pitying looks she and Romelle (she had claimed “girlfriend rights” and therefore shotgun and was sipping on some sort of violently pink Starbucks contraption the whole way to school) kept shooting him. The only upside was the mocha frappuccino they got him.

“It couldn’t have been _that_ bad,” Allura finally said right as they were about to walk inside. She was keeping her voice down, but Lance still looked around anyways. People were staring already. Great. “I didn’t even hear about it until Pidge told me why you and Keith were acting so depressed. Apparently the debate team had got high on laughing gas and almost set fire to their hotel during their winter trip.”

Normally that would make Lance at least _smile_ , but it was soured immediately at the mention of The-Mullet-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named’s name. He scowled. “I’m not depressed anymore,” he snapped. “I realize now that I was being stupid the whole time. And Keith has no right to act so upset. _He’s_ the one that spent the night in Lotor’s room and gave him my fuckin’ grandma’s bracelet.”

“That’s bullshit,” Romelle grumbled, but Allura quickly cut in.

“Okay, so assuming that Keith would even do that after declaring quite loudly that he was in love with _you_ the whole time you’ve been fake-dating--”

“Allura!” Lance growled, rounding on her. “Drop. It.”

Allura looked ready to bitch-slap him for telling her to essentially shut up, but she must’ve seen the tears gathering in Lance’s eyes because she suddenly deflated. She opened her mouth to say something else, perhaps to apologize, but Lance had already started speed-walking away. The two girls followed quickly, but neither of them spoke up again.

Lance rounded the corner of the aisle his locker was in only to see a sizable crowd gathered around one of them. His stomach dropped, and he quickly shoved his way through. The crowd murmured around him, some of them chuckling or even subtly trying to take out their phones to film his reaction.

**IT’S ALWAYS THE ONES YOU NEVER EXPECT!** his locker read in big, bold, probably permanent marker. Taped above it was a full-color photo from the Instagram video Pidge had tried so hard to delete for him. Sure enough, it was easy to see even in the shitty lighting that he and Keith were making out, no clothes really visible.

Lance felt like puking. A dark-skinned hand with a nice, pink manicure suddenly shot out and ripped the photo off. She saw a boy with his phone out and snatched it from his hand faster than Lance could blink.

“Hey!” the boy protested, but Allura had already deleted the video and dropped the phone hard enough to crack the screen a little.

Lance should’ve felt proud, but instead, he was too busy trying to keep from crying as he quickly shoved his way out of the crowd. He was halfway to the band room before a familiar voice called out to him.

“Lance! Wait up, I want to--” The owner of the voice stopped dead in his tracks, his hand hovering awkwardly from where he was going to intercept Lance on his flight. “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?”

Lance felt the remaining dregs of melancholy and heartbreak turn into pure, unfiltered rage. “Fuck you!” he screamed, shoving Keith as hard as he could.

Keith stumbled back and almost fell over, but he caught himself at the last second against the wall. He looked terrified. _Good,_ Lance thought to himself. His anger was acidic, and he hoped it gave Keith third-degree burns.

_“Fuck. You,”_ Lance repeated, quieter but no less venomous. “Fuck you. This has been going on for _weeks_ , now, and you haven’t tried denying it _once_ , have you? No, not only are you content to sleep with Lotor and lie about it to me _and _let him _steal_ one of my most prized possessions, you don’t even _attempt_ to tell the fucking truth. No, you’re totally content with letting everybody think that we fucked in a goddamn hot tub! Cause you want to be some sort of fucking _player_ who can sleep with whoever the fuck he wants, even the biggest fucking prude in school!”__

__Keith looked ready to say something, but Lance narrowed his eyes and barrelled on. “You want everyone to think that you’re _soooo_ cool, but in reality, you’re just _pathetic_.”_ _

__Keith flinched, but Lance was already walking away. He was just so fucking _done_ with everything: with Keith, with Lotor, with the _drama_ , with the whole goddamn _school_!_ _

___God, give me strength,_ Lance prayed as he scrubbed at his face. _I don’t wanna have to deal with this anymore. Please, make it stop.__ _

__“Hey!” Keith shouted, and in spite of himself, Lance stopped and looked back. Keith had straightened and turned to face the large crowd gathering at the opposite end of the hall. Lance couldn’t see his face, but he could easily read the angry, tense lines of his shoulders. “Not that it’s any of you fucker’s business, but nothing happened in that fuckin’ hot tub! So if I hear _anybody_ talking about Lance or that video, I’m going to personally fuck you up. _Understand_?”_ _

__He sounded _furious_. Lance felt himself shiver a little bit, and if the crowd had any common sense, they would too. Keith turned back to him, his face softening._ _

__Lance turned and tried to walk away, but Keith caught his arm and gently pulled him into a side hallway that was blessedly empty. For some reason, Lance let him. All of the anger had drained out of him, and now he just felt like crying. Funny how the human mind could vacillate so easily and quickly between point-blank, red-eyed rage to crippling sadness and guilt. Well, it _would_ be funny if it wasn’t so fucking horrible._ _

__And to think it wasn’t even first fucking period._ _

__“I... I’m sorry,” Keith whispered before Lance could think of what to say. His eyes were huge and pleading. “I am _so fucking sorry_ , Lance. You’re right. I should’ve tried to deny everything sooner. But I was a coward. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. You shouldn’t have had to face all that shit by yourself.”_ _

__“Yeah, you’re right, I shouldn’t have,” Lance agreed tiredly._ _

__“As for the video... If I knew who had made it--”_ _

__“You know who made it and so do I. There’s only _one_ person who would have the motivation to do this. Stop trying to act like he didn’t.”_ _

__Keith looked down, his eyes mostly hidden by his ridiculously long eyelashes. Any other conversation on any other day, and Lance might’ve been distracted by that. Damn pretty boys._ _

__“...Okay, but... Let _me_ talk to him.”_ _

__“No,” Lance said immediately. “This is something that I need to do. I’ve let Lotor walk all over me for ages. I’m _done_ being his bitch. Besides, you and I both know you don’t have the balls to go through with it.”_ _

__Keith flinched but didn’t try denying it. Lance shook his head and pushed past him. “Don’t try talking to me again, Keith,” he warned. Keith didn’t try going after him again._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lyrics in the summary from a song called "Can I Call You Tonight?" by Dayglow. i was listening to a breakup playlist while writing this chapter and suddenly remembered that i had this song on my playlist and then i listened to it and got sad so now you have to get sad(der). in other news, will i ever have consistent chapter titles/summaries? probably not!
> 
> music inspires me so much it's not even funny. i got a figurative kick to the ass to finish this after listening to a certain song (that will definitely be appearing later) on the way home from work. i got super excited about writing keith (and maybe lance) singing along to this song, but then i remembered that to write _happy_ stuff, i kind of need to finish writing the angst, huh.
> 
> to give you an idea of how hard it was to format this fuckin' chapter, i present a humble meme:  
>  **me:** *tries to format texts with italics AND no double-spacing between "texts" from the same person*  
>  **ao3 formatter:** *literally shits itself and fucks up all the formatting after that because why the hell not*
> 
> well, enough rambling. you know the deal by now, probably, but i'll say it anyways: your comments/kudos/reviews/etc. give me life and make me uwu really hard. if you see any errors, don't hesitate to point them out, also! i literally know zero spanish, and google translate has fucked me over enough times that i don't trust like that anymore
> 
> love you all!!! take all my uwu's i have so many for you guys :')


	15. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance confronts Lotor, but it doesn't go how he thought it would. Afterwards, he's left to confront his actions and decide what to do next.

Lance wished he could say for the sake of the little actor that lived and breathed making his life as much like a movie as it could that he found Lotor right away and that it was the showdown of the ages. He wished he could say that he found Lotor someplace private but reasonable, like the library or a small side hallway. He wished he could say that he left the conversation with his heart lighter than air and Lotor scowling in defeat.

But real life doesn’t really work like that. Lance found Lotor in the bathroom during lunch, washing his hands, and he had to make the decision between peeing and confronting Lotor. He decided that he would have to confront Lotor on an almost-full bladder because there was no way he would be able to _after_ peeing.

Lance marched right over as confidently as he could and stopped uncomfortably close to Lotor’s side, glaring as harshly as he could. Given how pissed off he was, it wasn’t very hard.

Lotor barely spared him a glance before smirking. “I know you grew up in a big family, but surely you must know about the concept of personal space by _now_.”

“I know you posted that video,” Lance steamrolled. “Also, I want my bracelet back.”

“No, actually, the video wasn’t me,” Lotor hummed, turning off the sink and walking over to the hand drier. “But I’ll admit that I took your bracelet from Keith. And hey, if you want some friendly advice, just know that the next time you decide to have sex in a public place, you have to be careful of the consequences.”

“You and I both know Keith and I didn’t have sex,” Lance snapped. “And stop lying! It’s not funny or clever. It’s just cowardly.”

Lotor rolled his eyes. “How many times must I say it? _I didn’t film your sex tape, Lance._ Acxa and Ezor can attest that I was with them until Keith came in to talk.”

Lance clenched his jaw and his fists. He felt like punching Lotor, to hell with the consequences of assaulting another student. Lotor took Lance’s seaglass bracelet out of his pocket and held it up. Lance snatched it out of his hand and looked it over for signs of damage, but thankfully, there weren’t any. Lotor scoffed and began heading for the door. Lance glared at his back as he fastened the bracelet back around his wrist and promised himself that he would never let it out of his sight or lend it to another person ever again.

Suddenly, though, Lotor stopped and turned around. “But you know what? I’m really glad someone _did_ record that because _now_ the school knows you’re not as innocent and pure as you pretend to be.”

Lance threw up his hands, exasperated. “What the hell are you talking about?! What is even your _problem_ with me?!”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” Lotor hissed, pointing an accusing finger at Lance.

Lance glared right back. “I’m _not_ pretending, dumbass! I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about! You just up and decided one day that we weren’t friends anymore sometime, and you’ve been a backstabbing bitch ever since!”

“I’m talking about _Keith_! And how you kissed him!”

Lance’s mind flashed back to his and Keith’s first kiss, the disastrous decoy on the running track months and months ago, and for once, he didn’t blush like an idiot. “You were broken up!” he scoffed. “And, need I remind you, _you_ were the one who broke up with _him_! So actually, that was none of your damn business in the first place!”

“I’m not talking about that!” Lotor exploded. “I’m talking about before we even _dated_! Back in seventh grade, like you so kindly pointed out! Spin the Bottle, Lance, does _that_ ring a bell?!”

It did. Lance could still picture it perfectly: a dimly lit basement in some classmate’s house - he couldn’t even really remember _whose_ anymore - sitting in a circle with an empty, two-liter bottle of Pepsi, blushing and pouting at Lotor for dragging him into such an embarrassing game. Feeling his palms sweat and heart stammer every time the bottle was spun, hoping desperately that it wouldn’t land on him. Thinking frantically, _I don’t even know how to kiss!_

He remembered looking across the circle after the first couple of spins miraculously passed over him and making eye contact with the new(ish) kid, Keith. He remembered Keith smiling a little and mouthing, “You okay?”

He remembered smiling a little back and nodding. He remembered Keith smiling wider and glancing briefly back at the bottle to see who it landed on and letting out a comically exaggerated sigh of relief. He remembered trying to stifle a giggle and meeting Keith’s eyes, his own crinkled up in amusement. He remembered the way Keith’s eyes seemed to melt and soften as he took in Lance’s expression, and the way that his pale cheeks seemed to darken - though, to be fair, it was pretty hard to see minute details like that in the dim lighting.

He remembered the feeling of horror when, not even a minute later, the bottle landed on _him_. He remembered blushing terribly and accepting a peck on the cheek from Maya Carter, and when he opened his eyes, seeing Keith frowning and looking away. He remembered feeling confused but reaching for the bottle and giving it a good spin anyways, his eyes never leaving Keith.

He remembered the shock as the bottle landed on Keith, like his focus had been enough that the bottle itself had obeyed his wishes. He remembered the _“ooo”_ -ing from the others in the circle and blushing bright red. He remembered feeling Lotor’s glare boring into the side of his head and gulping.

“I... I could spin again,” he remembered murmuring, looking pleadingly at Lotor.

He remembered hearing Keith moving and looking up to see him sitting back on his heels barely a foot from him, his eyes soft and cheeks dark and lips tilted up a little. “Nah, you can’t cheat the bottle, that’s not how it works,” he remembered Keith saying, his voice quiet and private and only for Lance.

He remembered nodding a little, taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes tight. He remembered Keith’s lips on his and how fast and un-romantic the whole situation was. He remembered feeling happy and flustered anyways, so much so that he never bothered to recognize the angry expression on Lotor’s face.

And apparently, Middle-School Lance was so caught up on it and _continued_ being so caught up on it that it took _Senior_ Lance to realize that it probably wasn’t a coincidence that Middle-School Lance and Middle-School Lotor stopped being friends almost immediately after that little incident.

Modern-Day Lotor didn’t allow Lance to soak in that little revelation for very long. “You _knew_ I liked Keith back then, and you _still_ kissed him!” he accused, his voice almost cracking a little.

Lance scoffed, incredulous. “You’re-- You’re kidding me, right? You _have_ to be.”

“I’m not!”

“Lotor, it was _Spin the fuckin’ Bottle!_ It lasted maybe two milliseconds, and it was so objectively unsexy that--! Well, I don’t know what, but it was very unsexy! We were _middle schoolers_ , Lotor! Fuckin’ _middle schoolers!”_

“It still mattered to me because you still broke our code and kissed a boy that _I_ liked _and_ you _enjoyed_ it! And you want to know what the worst part is? _Keith_ wanted to too! He liked _you_ more than he _ever_ liked me, even back then!”

Lotor stormed out of the bathroom, and if Lance wasn’t seeing things, he had tears running down his face. Some part of Lance wanted to run after him, maybe try to calm Lotor down, but his brain was still trying to process what the hell just happened.

That conversation was supposed to have been short, simple, and a personal triumph for Lance, a closing-of-the-chapter where he no longer had to put up with Lotor giving him shit, but it wasn’t. It had left more questions than it had given answers, and instead of feeling vindicated or smug, Lance just felt more confused and guilty than when Keith had proposed their fake relationship after driving him home from _The Five Lions_.

He also still really needed to pee.

 

Lance made it through the rest of the day with minimal extra confusion/guilt/shame/etc. People kept staring at him, of course, but the whispers never progressed past that, and all conversation and glances stopped whenever Lance caught the gossipers red-handed. It seemed that Keith’s threats had been taken seriously by pretty much everyone.

God must’ve felt bad for how shitty Lance’s day was and sent him a small miracle in finding a pair of headphones in his jacket pocket. Lance was able to drown out at least _some_ of the gossip with music, and when English with Keith rolled around, he was able to listen to the audiobook of _Animal Farm_ instead of focusing on the tense atmosphere of the classroom and the fervent glances people sent him and Keith, who was pretending very hard to be reading said book and working on the reading questions.

Maybe it was just Lance’s imagination, but he could swear he could _feel_ Keith’s gaze on him like a physical touch. It was just a tiny brush of invisible fingers against the back of his neck, but it still gave him goosebumps.

Halfway through the period, he feigned a headache and asked to go down to the nurse’s office to lie down. The teacher must’ve read the tension in the room - or maybe he just knew about the video, which was equally likely - because he agreed immediately. Everyone watched Lance leave, but he could only feel one pair of eyes. As warm as he was in his old, hand-me-down jacket, he still shivered.

Lance’s “Sad” playlist followed him home on the bus, too. He stared out the window and felt numb, for the most part, but when he stepped off the bus, he caught sight of the Kinkades’ house and felt a sudden rush of homesickness.

Well, okay, _homesickness_ wasn’t really the right word for it, but it felt _exactly_ like homesickness; only, in this case, Lance wasn’t feeling sick for home, he was feeling sick for _Ryan_. He was feeling sick for an old, close friend.

So Lance popped out his earbuds, marched right up to the Kinkades’ door, and knocked. It took a few seconds, but sure enough, Ryan himself opened the door.

He looked surprised to see Lance, which made sense. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of his mouth. “For Christmas. I shouldn’t have started a fight with Keith. It was shitty.”

“It was shitty for me to ignore you for months on end and completely disregard all your feelings,” Lance shot back, smiling wryly. “We’re both equally horrible, Ryan, deal with it.”

Ryan laughed quietly, and Lance jerked his head off to the side. “Wanna come over? The house is empty for once, I think.”

Ryan smiled wider. “Yeah, alright, that sounds cool.”

It _was_ cool. Having Ryan back didn’t make everything feel magically better, but it was nice to talk again. The last time they’d talked - not argued, _talked_ \- it had been all about Lance and Keith. Lance had been extremely selfish, and Ryan had been angry. It made sense. From Ryan’s point of view, it seemed like Keith had ruined everything: he’d taken away Ryan’s best friend and then tossed him aside to screw around with Lotor, leaving Ryan to pick up the broken pieces of his and Lance’s friendship _and_ help Lance put his broken heart back together.

Maybe Ryan was right to call Keith an asshole. He kind of was. Then again, they all had made asses out of themselves. Keith should’ve supported Lance sooner, Lance should’ve been more aware of how shitty he was being to Ryan, and Ryan shouldn’t have showed up at Lance’s house and started a petty argument that had culminated in Veronica finding out the one secret Lance had been trying to keep from her for months. They were all immature assholes.

“So, how have _you_ been doing recently?” Ryan asked cautiously after a small break in their conversation. They’d been trying to keep it casual, all questions about what had been going on in _Ryan’s_ life recently and more questions about Ryan’s college roommate, James. But they couldn’t avoid the elephant in Lance’s living room for very long, looming over them and growing bigger the longer they ignored it.

Lance sighed and closed his eyes. “Bad,” he answered honestly. “I mean, you probably already figured. Everybody’s slowly moving on, but... Well, you know how people are. They don’t want to _forget_ , and they probably never will. I’ll always be that one kid who maybe had sex in a hot tub with the ex-boyfriend of the most popular boy in school. Even when they’re grandparents, some of these kids are gonna be pointing to my picture in the yearbook and telling their family that Keith turned me from the biggest prude in school to an exabitionist slut.”

Ryan frowned. “You’re _not_ , though,” he said firmly. “Lance, you’ve never been a prude, and you’re certainly not a slut just cause of some stupid video someone never should’ve taken.”

Lance sighed. “Yeah, maybe not _actually_ , but the truth doesn’t matter to some of these kids. They just want the drama of it all.”

“Yeah, they do. And that’s why they shouldn’t matter. They’re sharks, all of them. They smelled new blood in the water, and they did everything they could to rip you apart.”

Lance winced at the visual, but he could admit that Ryan was right. “I’m being stupid and whiny, aren’t I?” he asked, turning to look at his friend.

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, smiling a little. “But it makes sense. You open yourself up to love for the first time in... well, _ever_ , and then he turns around and stabs you in the back.”

“I don’t think he did, though,” Lance admitted quietly. “I mean... Lotor would’ve _told_ me if anything had happened between him and Keith.”

“You talked with Lotor?”

“Yeah, today. I tried confronting him in the bathroom for posting the video, but I don’t think he and Keith did anything. The way he brought it up… I don’t know. I feel like if he wanted to make me feel worse, then he would’ve bragged about sleeping with Keith or at least _kissing_ him. But he didn’t. He just said something about how Keith had always liked me more than he liked Lotor.”

They were quiet for a while, Ryan mulling this over and Lance waiting impatiently for his two cents. “Well, then, I guess he didn’t,” Ryan said slowly. “I guess Lotor was just trying to get under your skin.”

Lance made a strange combination of a laugh and a sigh and slumped back. The couch cushions partially engulfed him, but . “Great. So I was angry at Keith this whole time for no reason?”

“Kind of? I mean, both of you could’ve handled everything way better, but... People make mistakes, Lance. That doesn’t mean you can never fix them.”

“So what do you think I should do?”

“I think you should stop running away. I think you should talk to Keith. Don’t worry about dating or anything stupid like that. Just... apologize for letting Lotor getting in your head. Tell him that you don’t hate him for the whole video thing. I don’t know, Lance, just _talk_. Neither of you need this hanging over your head and never getting fixed.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Ryan asked, not accusing but just curious.

Lance felt his eyes beginning to sting. “Because if I don’t talk to him then it means it wasn’t real. And if none of this was real, then that means that I never lost anything. But if I talk to him and admit that it _was_ real but he doesn’t feel the same…”

“But he’ll know,” Ryan said softly. “Lance, you have to tell people how you feel when you feel it. You can’t spend your whole life writing love letters you’ll never send and convincing yourself that you could never have any of it hurts more than rejection ever could. I mean, Keith wouldn’t even be in your life if those letters hadn’t gotten out in the first place.”

“Maybe not, but I’m so _tired_ of sending love letters,” Lance whispered. A few tears had begun slipping down his face. “I just... Is it selfish for me to say that I just want a few for myself?”

Ryan opened his mouth, but they turned when they heard footsteps. Rachel was walking into the living room, looking uncharacteristically shy and holding a familiar shoebox. “I have something for you,” she murmured. “Don’t kill me.”

Lance took the shoebox and opened it up. As he did, Rachel continued. “I know it was a major invasion of privacy, and I’m really sorry, but I didn’t want you throwing them away. I thought they were cute and you might want to keep them one day.”

Instead of Lance’s old love letters, the box was filled with probably at least fifty or more scraps of paper, all addressed to “Lance ♥” in Keith’s favorite red pen. “You kept these?” Lance asked, glancing up at Rachel.

She smiled and nodded. Lance looked back down and picked up a random one. _“Lance,”_ he read. _“I know you were nervous about our English presentations, but yours was excellent. Everyone was blown away. I love how smart you are.”_

He picked up another one. _“Lance. It’s really hard for me to talk about my dad and stuff, but you make it so easy. I like talking with you and not just when we get real with each other.”_

He kept going. _“Lance. Stop taking your shirt off during MB practice. Everyone keeps staring. Everybody but me, obviously.”_

_“Lance. I really liked your costume. You’re a huge dork, but that’s okay.”_

_“Lance. I really want you to go on the ski trip. I don’t want to be alone with Lotor.”_

_“Lance. You looked really good today. Not that you don’t always look good. You know what I mean.”_

_“Lance. I never really realized it, but you have really soft skin. How the hell do you manage to keep it that way?”_

_“Lance. Now that I know you’re scared of ghosts, I kinda want to take you to a haunted house. Your reactions would be funny. But don’t worry, I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”_

_“Lance. What were you reading on your phone yesterday? It was making you laugh a lot. Not that that’s bad. I really like your laugh, actually.”_

A particularly large piece of paper caught Lance’s eye, and he pulled it out carefully. _“Lance. I know by now that you don’t read my notes. That’s a good thing, probably. A lot of the stuff I’ve written is kind of embarrassing. But I don’t regret writing it. I meant all of what I said in those notes, and I’ll keep meaning whatever else I say. Anyways, I think I might like you. As in, I want to date you for real, but you don’t want that. I don’t want to make you scared, so I won’t tell you how I feel. I like being around you too much. P.S. - I think I get now why you wrote those love letters. I’m kind of doing the same thing now, aren’t I?”_

It was quiet for a moment, but then Ryan laughed. “Still think you never got a love letter before?”

Lance wiped away his tears and stood. Rachel looked tense, but he hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“No problem,” she mumbled back. “I’m glad I got to help _somehow_.”

When they pulled away, Ryan asked, “So, do you know what to do?”

Lance smiled and nodded. He pulled on his shoes and jacket again, but this time, he left the headphones he’d found in his pocket behind. He replaced them with car keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i miss going to jiujitsu so i'm gonna project really hard onto keith in the next chapter even though i headcanoned him doing kickboxing instead
> 
> also yeah, we'll see keef in the next chapter! hopefully he won't be so sad. @klance and all the other characters i made sad: i'm sorry but i had to. :'( if it makes you guys feel better, though, i never write angst without some sort of resolution. i actually dropped a really good rp once because it made me too sad and i didn't know how to make it happy again.
> 
> i kind of drained myself writing this, but i have another day off tomorrow so i'm probs gonna spend it writing again. i'm excited to get back to the fluff!! and jeez, just be warned, there's gonna be so much of it. that's just what happens when you've lingered on the angst for too long. gotta recharge with that good fluffy shit.
> 
> say it with me now: comments/kudos/reviews/etc. are always appreciated and if you see a mistake, please tell me! i am my own beta reader and if yesterday taught me anything, i am also very blind even when something is staring me in the face. i have two brain cells and they left me back in junior year of high school.
> 
> love you all!!

**Author's Note:**

> hey, thanks a ton for reading!! this has definitely been done before, but the idea grabbed me and wouldn't let me go, so here's my spin on a "to all the boys i've loved before" klance au. (if you haven't watched the movie, it's awesome and on netflix. highly recommend it!!)
> 
> also, just a warning: this fic is going to have a VERY inconsistent update schedule because i'm fairly busy and also take a long time to finish things. i have several chapters already finished, so hopefully that'll hold you guys over until i can finish the whole thing.
> 
> reviews/comments/kudos/etc. are highly appreciated! :)


End file.
